


Aria Maris

by hizashi



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 20:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hizashi/pseuds/hizashi
Summary: “The cure for anything is salt water—sweat, tears, or the sea.”- Isak DinesenAria of the sea.--Junhwe is of the city, and Jinhwan is of the sea, but still they find each other as was always meant to be.





	1. Ex cinere

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a roll...! I actually started writing this before "Inertia" but only recently finished. I started this out more as a joke and a way to relax, but I ended up getting invested, haha. 
> 
> The story is actually five chapters; the sixth "chapter" is actually just a few extras/additional notes. It'll make sense why it's there once you've read the story.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (PS: I still can't stand the way "Junhoe" looks... You'll have to pry "Junhwe" from my cold, dead fingers.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“In order to rise from its own ashes, a phoenix first must burn.”  
>  \- Octavia E. Butler_
> 
> Out of ashes.

Junhwe wants to die.

All right, even Junhwe will admit that’s kind of dramatic, but he really feels that he’s hit rock bottom. It’s just been one thing after another—not one, not two, but _three_ scandals (none of which had been Junhwe’s fault, he’s quick to remind Donghyuk), never mind getting cheated on twice (yes, twice, Junhwe already feels like an idiot, thanks), then of course breaking up with said cheater (Junhwe had even cried despite everything she’d put him through), and then he’d somehow contracted appendicitis and had an appendectomy (but at least Donghyuk has been waiting on him more attentively than usual), and then to top it all off, he has writer’s block (which cannot be cured at the drop of a hat no matter how much his producers scream at him). It’s been exactly the sort of year that Junhwe thinks an unfortunate drama protagonist would have to live through, so naturally he’d suggested that Donghyuk send some of his headshots to various television producers. Donghyuk, of course, as the world’s worst manager, had not done this; instead, he’d arranged for Junhwe to remove himself from the public eye for several weeks to several months to even years, he threatens, if Junhwe doesn’t pull himself together. “You’re a wreck, your image is a wreck, and you don’t have any decent music ready anyway either.” Junhwe reluctantly concedes that Donghyuk has a point, but he still doesn’t see the need to run away to some random beach.

Because that’s where Junhwe finds himself now. He’s on some tiny backwater island at some tiny backwater B&B. “But there are no paparazzi here,” Donghyuk reminds him snippily. Honestly, Junhwe would take the paparazzi over this town and all eight of its inhabitants. When Donghyuk had first tricked him onto the island (Junhwe had been told he’d be going on location for a shoot), he’d been livid. “This is kidnapping!” he’d shrieked as he’d attempted to wrestle his phone from Donghyuk. (Donghyuk had won that battle, much to Junhwe’s chagrin.) After he’d had a few days to cool off, Junhwe had been almost intrigued by the idea of an extended holiday away from the prying eyes of the public and never-ending demands of his producers. Besides, he’s gone through so many awful situations this year, one right after the other, that maybe Donghyuk had been right. Maybe what Junhwe needs is a quiet break. That idea had lasted all of twelve hours, however, and now Junhwe is just irritated. With nothing to distract himself, Junhwe is left alone with his thoughts, which are… often unpleasant. He can’t stay focused long enough to write any music. He needs the frenzy and panic of his normal life to be able to concentrate. He needs chaos.

But Donghyuk won’t let Junhwe leave until he’s written enough material for a new album, and honestly, Junhwe would rather face the loneliness of this place than the ire of his producers. So after a week of moping about the B&B, Junhwe finally drags himself down to the beach to walk along the coastline in the hopes of being struck by some sort of inspiration. It’s early—early enough that none of the townsfolk are up, even Donghyuk is still asleep, and only a hint of the sun is peeking out over the horizon line. It’s cold; the sea breeze is whipping through Junhwe’s hair and seeping through his skin to chill him to his very core. He wraps his arms around himself and shivers; he should have worn a jacket. Eventually he comes across a collection of rocks and a hillock that obscures his view of its other side. With a sigh Junhwe hikes up to its top and sits on a rock, gazing absently at the rolling waves below. By now the sun is hanging low in the sky, bathing everything in a soft warm light, and Junhwe squints at it. It’s… beautiful.

He looks away.

When Junhwe looks up again, he is startled to see the outline of a person walking along the water’s edge. Junhwe is well and truly in the middle of nowhere this far away from the village, so he hadn’t expected to see anyone else. The person squats just out of the reach of the waves and then stretches out a hand to touch the water as it creeps back up the shore. After a while the figure pulls out several bottles from a bag and walks a few feet into the shallow water to fill them. Junhwe’s skin prickles as he watches, and he wonders what the person would be using seawater for until the person puts the bottles back into the bag and trudges off. Junhwe stays on his little knoll a while longer before heading back into town, and he feels very much like he’d just witnessed something rather private. When he gets back, Donghyuk is sitting on the porch with the newspaper and a cup of coffee. He frowns at Junhwe. “What’s wrong with you?” Junhwe says nothing and heads inside. He can’t explain what he’s feeling. He starts walking to the hill every morning after that, however, and every morning without fail the same person comes to sit by the water and then collect it in bottles. Junhwe doesn’t really know why he’s so intrigued by this person. He supposes, upon reflection as he lies awake at night, that it could be because he’s finally the one on the outside looking in rather than the one being ceaselessly gawked at like a caged animal.

After a few days he decides to broach the subject of the mysterious figure with the auntie who runs the B&B.

“Hey, so, do you know about that person who collects seawater?”  
She raises her eyebrows at him as she fills his coffee cup. “What?”  
“There’s like some person, if you go east out of town up the coast, and they go out every morning…” Junhwe trails off at the auntie’s blank look, but after a moment comprehension dawns on her face.  
“Ah!” she exclaims. “You must mean Jinhwan.”  
Junhwe looks at her expectantly. “And who’s he?”  
“He lives way out on the other side of the island with his cats. He’s an artist, so a bit of a weird one, but pleasant enough. Works with glass. Supposedly famous.”  
“And the seawater?”  
“Hell if I know,” the auntie says with a shrug. Then she points to the stained-glass window on the far wall. “He made that for us. If you see any glass art around town, Jinhwan’s the one who made it.”

Junhwe thanks the woman for the coffee and the information, and then he gazes at the window. He’d noticed it when he’d first arrived and then promptly forgotten about it. He inspects the window when he’s finished eating. It’s so stunning that Junhwe might even call it a masterpiece. The design is of a hill covered in flowers overlooking the ocean, and it’s a rich blend of colors with intricate details painted onto the glass. Junhwe leans in close and runs a finger over one the flower petals. “Why the sudden interest in windows?” Junhwe jumps at Donghyuk’s voice. “A guy can’t appreciate art?” Junhwe sniffs. Donghyuk rolls his eyes and says with a sigh that guys can appreciate art but that Junhwe has never in his life shown an appreciation for art, least of all stained-glass windows. Junhwe retorts that there is literally nothing better to do on this godforsaken uninhabited rock. All Donghyuk says is that Junhwe still can’t have his phone back, and then he leaves. Junhwe glares at Donghyuk’s retreating back, hoping that some of his displeasure is being beamed into Donghyuk’s very soul, but once Donghyuk disappears, he focuses his attention back on the window.

_As I stand on a cliff overlooking the sea,  
I hope that someday you’ll come back for me._

Junhwe blinks, and then he hurries to his room to jot the line down in his notebook. He stretches out on his bed and closes his eyes, pensive, as he’s transported in his mind to the edge of the cliff in the stained-glass window. The flowers are tickling his ankles as the wind whirls around him, and the waves are crashing against the cliff face below him. He can smell the salt in the air, and as he looks down at the beach, he can see a dark figure squatting in the shallow water. Junhwe knows he must be filling bottles with seawater… 

_As I stand on a cliff overlooking the sea,_  
_I hope that someday you’ll come back for me._  
_That somehow, just maybe, my soul will still reach_  
_Where you stand filling bottles on that same stretch of beach._  
_But a dream in a dream is a dream in a lie,  
_ _And my soul is devoured where the sea meets the sky._

Junhwe wakes up sometime later, in a haze, his thoughts consumed by souls and seas. He coughs, runs a hand through his hair, and hums thoughtfully. He wants to know more about this glass artist. He searches the B&B for Donghyuk and finds him tanning on the balcony. “Get dressed, we’re going into town.” Donghyuk gives Junhwe a look that is equal parts disbelief and displeasure, but Junhwe chooses to ignore it. Donghyuk has to do whatever Junhwe tells him to do anyway, and Junhwe couldn’t care less if Donghyuk does whatever it is begrudgingly or enthusiastically. But begrudging seems to be the sentiment today as Donghyuk makes a big show of getting dressed, but Junhwe has little sympathy for the man who is keeping him sequestered on a deserted island. “Sparsely populated,” Donghyuk corrects irritably as he throws his wallet into his bag. The two of them leave the B&B and walk through the town, and Junhwe suddenly finds himself noticing glass art everywhere. All of the shops seem to have at least one stained-glass window or panel, and all of them have at least one glass figure in a window or on their shop counters. Junhwe looks at them all, and they’re all lovely—intricate details, thin lines, many of them painted… Junhwe gazes at a tiny glass flower sitting in a flower shop window.

_I love you as you love each petal of the rose of glass  
That you pieced together from the shards of my heart._

“Rose of glass,” Junhwe mutters.  
“What?”  
“I want to meet the glass guy.”  
Donghyuk groans. “Did you drag me out here just to look at his glass stuff?”  
“Maybe.”  
“Well, I’m not calling him today. Can you wait until tomorrow for a meeting?”  
“I guess.”  
“All right, then let’s go,” Donghyuk says as he pulls Junhwe out of the shop. “Have you written any new material?”  
Junhwe sighs. “Are they asking?”  
“Of course they’re asking.”  
“You can tell them I’ve written a few lines.”  
Donghyuk’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you dicking around or are you serious?”  
“I’m serious.”

Without so much as a word, Donghyuk dashes off, whipping out his phone to call the producers. Junhwe wonders mildly how often they’ve been pestering Donghyuk for him to be so eager to share news about a few lines of a first draft. Junhwe is just petty enough to consider throwing out what he’d written, but… Instead he makes his way to the beach and walks to the hill. He pauses at the top of the hill and shades his eyes against the sun. Jinhwan, as he is apparently called, must live a little further down the coast. Junhwe supposes Jinhwan can’t live prohibitively far from town, even if he does like to keep to himself. Junhwe heads in the direction he’d seen Jinhwan coming from, and after about ten minutes of walking, he comes across a little cottage just off the beach. Two chairs and a table are sitting on the porch, and the front door is wide open. Junhwe walks inside. “Hello?” There’s no response, so Junhwe looks around.

A couch and a chair surround a small table, and at the far end of the room, a curtain obscures the house beyond. Covering nearly every surface are glass sculptures of varying sizes, designs, and colors, but all of them are finely detailed and simply breathtaking. The sun filtering through the windows is hitting the figurines on the sills, sending beams of colored light all around the room. Junhwe is entranced. He catches sight of a small tear-shaped sculpture, and inside the clear glass are swirls of all different shades of blues and greens. It looks as if a tiny ocean had been trapped within it. Junhwe is hunched over it, head tilted and eyes squinting to try to get a better look at it—

“Can I help you?”

Junhwe jumps. A man had just walked out from the behind the curtain, and Junhwe is sure it’s the man from the beach. He’s small—a lot smaller than Junhwe had assumed he’d be—with pretty little eyes and a pretty little mouth and soft dark hair. He doesn’t look too disturbed to find Junhwe in his living room (he seems more politely confused than anything else), but now that Junhwe finds himself face to face with the figure from the beach, he’s horrified to realize that he has absolutely no idea what to say. He’d been so caught up in the way the sight of Jinhwan from afar had made him feel that he hadn’t thought about how to approach him. So now Junhwe is standing in the middle of the room, struck dumb and undoubtedly looking like a complete fool until he manages to stammer out his name. Jinhwan offers him a small, crooked smile. “I’ve been wondering who you were.” Junhwe’s stomach does a somersault. Had Jinhwan known Junhwe has been watching him? Junhwe is attempting to process this information when Jinhwan crosses the room to stand beside him. He points to the glass teardrop. “Do you like it?” Junhwe nods, and Jinhwan smiles wryly again. “You can have it.” Junhwe starts spluttering, he can’t possibly just take it, he should at least pay for it—but Jinhwan has already picked up the figurine and brought it to the desk in the corner, and then he starts to wrap it up carefully. Junhwe fishes around in his pockets for his wallet, but of course he doesn’t have it; Donghyuk had taken it from him when they’d first arrived. He can’t even call Donghyuk to make him bring some money over…

“Here you go,” Jinhwan says with another smile. He hands a small paper bag to Junhwe, who takes it. The bag is heavier than Junhwe had thought it would be.  
“Thanks,” he mutters. “But really, I should pay you—”  
“I’ve given a lot of my work away to the people around town. Really, it’s fine. Feel free to stop by any time. Or say hi the next time you see me down by the beach.”

And with that he trots off, leaving Junhwe standing dazed in the living room. What in god’s name had just happened? Junhwe leaves the little house and trudges back to town, the whole time trying to figure out how Jinhwan had known about him. He’d really thought he’d been invisible up on his hill, hidden under the cover of rocks, early morning fog, and the fact that Jinhwan had never once looked in Junhwe’s direction. It’s really quite the conundrum to Junhwe. He must not have been as stealthy as he’d thought… but no matter. Jinhwan hadn’t seemed too bothered. Maybe he’s often stared at from afar by weird city folk. Junhwe throws himself onto his bed in the B&B with a groan. No, that can’t possibly be it. At least his first impression hadn’t been _too_ awful. He sighs and then pulls the glass teardrop from the bag. It really is beautiful, and it makes Junhwe’s heart ache—though he isn’t entirely sure why. After a long moment he places it on the windowsill behind his bed but then decides that, even though it catches the light, that isn’t a good place because Junhwe can’t see it. He settles on leaving it by the clock on the nightstand. Then he stretches out on his bed and gazes at the teardrop, and after a while his eyelids start to droop…

He’s back on that cliff, but he’s making his way down now, toward that figure on the shoreline, and it’s Jinhwan. He smiles a wry smile, and Junhwe’s heart flutters…

 _I had thought I was hidden, my heart in the dunes,_  
_As I watched from afar as you hummed little tunes._  
_But you, as you are, are so clever and bright_  
_That you could still see me, my heart in plain sight._  
_So my heart and my soul drift down to the bay  
_ _To meet you and your smile, clear as the day._

Junhwe wakes up late that night, groggy and confused. Where is he? What had happened? Slowly the memories come back to him, and he’s embarrassed all over again. He’d met Jinhwan and made a pretty spectacular ass of himself. He rubs his eyes and looks at the glass teardrop on his nightstand, and then he pulls out his notebook and scribbles down the lines that had been floating around in his brain while he’d slept. Then he heads downstairs to the common area, and predictably Donghyuk is there. He frowns at Junhwe. “You missed dinner.” The words have barely left Donghyuk’s mouth before Junhwe spins on his heel and hurries to the kitchen, where he finds the leftovers the auntie had saved for him. The one good thing about such a tiny backwater hellhole is that the aunties are always trying to fatten him up, and all of them are like master chefs. He goes back out to the common area and wolfs down his food while Donghyuk watches him with a disapproving expression.

“So can you believe that Jinhwan doesn’t have a phone? There’s an auntie who lives near him who takes calls for him. I left her a message to call me, so—”  
“I already talked to him.”  
“—I don’t know when we’ll actually get an appointment—what?”  
“I went to his house and met him.”  
“Oh my god,” Donghyuk groans, “if you were just gonna go see him yourself, why did you ask me to call?”  
Junhwe shrugs. “I dunno. I went on a whim.”  
“You’re insufferable,” Donghyuk grumbles. He glares at Junhwe a while longer, and then he sighs. “Do you have anything?”  
Junhwe flicks at his plate. “I have some lyrics but nothing cohesive, and if you can’t get me my guitar soon, I’m really going to at least need my phone if I’m going to get anywhere with the melodies—”  
“I got you this in town,” Donghyuk says as he slides a tape recorder across the table. Junhwe stares at it for a moment and then looks up at Donghyuk. He’s wearing the smuggest expression Junhwe has ever seen on a human being.  
“I’m going to bed,” Junhwe mutters grumpily, and Donghyuk’s laughter follows him all the way down the hallway.

Junhwe’s earlier nap means that he’s up at the crack of dawn the next morning. He has a quick shower, and after he dresses, he sits on the edge of his bed and gazes for a long moment at the glass teardrop. Minutes later Junhwe is outside in the crisp morning air, shuffling down to the beach to walk to his hill. Jinhwan is already there, filling his bottles, and after some hesitation, Junhwe makes his way down the hill to stand at the edge of the tides. He says nothing, and Jinhwan says nothing, and after a while Junhwe finds himself again in that dream world. The gulls are crying overhead and the waves are singing a low tune and he and Jinhwan are standing just beyond their reach… 

_Here in the soft light of the dawn, we stand,  
And as the waves draw back, you take my hand._

“I’m going back now.”  
Junhwe blinks, shaken out of his daydreams. “Huh?” he says eloquently.  
“I’ve gotten enough so I’m going back.” Jinhwan tilts his head. “You’re welcome to come.”

He starts walking off without waiting for a response, and by the time Junhwe’s brain processes what is happening, Jinhwan is already a speck in the distance. Junhwe jogs after him and catches up just as Jinhwan reaches his cottage. Junhwe watches as Jinhwan puts the bottles carefully in a crate outside another building behind his house. This building, as it turns out, is Jinhwan’s studio. There’s even a kiln, although Junhwe supposes that it makes sense for a glassblower to have all the necessary tools for glassblowing. There are also two workbenches, one large and one small, but what catches Junhwe’s attention is the enormous, partially finished stained-glass mosaic mural laid out on the floor. It seems to be about three-quarters finished. One section is of a calm night sea, another of the sea at daybreak, and then a third mostly finished section of the sun high in the sky over the sea viewed from atop a cliff. It’s the same cliff from the stained-glass window in the B&B. Junhwe stares at the mural, transfixed, while Jinhwan ignores him and gets to work on the rest of it. Eventually Junhwe sits down and writes out a few lines of a song, and then he pulls out his tape recorder (reluctantly) and hums a melody. It’s strange how calm and contented he feels sitting in Jinhwan’s studio even though it’s so quiet. He feels at home.

Junhwe isn’t sure how much time has passed when Jinhwan hops up from his work, brushes the dust off his knees, and washes his hands. Then he grabs some sort of pole, sticks it into the kiln, and pulls out a giant glob of molten glass. Junhwe watches (from a safe distance, thank you) as Jinhwan rolls the stick around and around, shaping the hot glass, sticking it back into some hole, blowing it… He makes two similar shapes—vases are Junhwe’s guess—and after he puts them in the kiln to cool them down, he turns to Junhwe with a frown. “Have you seen Hanbin or Jiwon?” Junhwe opens and closes his mouth a few times. Hanbin? Jiwon? Who the hell are they? He shakes his head. “Haven’t seen anyone.” At this Jinhwan smiles his wry, amused smile, and Junhwe is confused. Is it something he’d said? “They aren’t people,” Jinhwan says. “They’re my cats.” Come to think of it, Junhwe does have a vague memory of the B&B auntie telling him that Jinhwan lives in the middle of nowhere with his cats. With a frown Junhwe asks if it’s safe for cats to be running around a glassblowing studio, but Jinhwan just shrugs. “They know better.” Well, Junhwe isn’t going to argue, but he’s pretty sure that he’s never met a cat that, despite knowing better, still didn’t do rather assholish things.

As if on cue, however, their conversation is interrupted by a long low meow, and seemingly out of nowhere slinks a huge beautiful cat with a long white coat. It ignores Junhwe and twists itself around Jinhwan’s legs, purring. Jinhwan picks the cat up and kisses the top of its head. “This is Hanbin,” he says, and then he starts cooing at his cat. Seconds later Junhwe jumps in surprise at the loud meow of another large cat, this one jet black with long soft fur. It seems to be giving Junhwe a… disapproving look? Junhwe is reminded eerily of Donghyuk. It’s sitting halfway between Jinhwan and Junhwe, its tail curled around its feet, its piercing yellow eyes trained on Junhwe. That one must be Jiwon. Jinhwan moves closer to Jiwon, and then he squats, drops Hanbin on the floor, and pets Jiwon. The two cats are purring, so Junhwe squats down beside them too. “You can pet them,” Jinhwan says. Tentatively Junhwe reaches his hand out and strokes Jiwon’s head. His tail swishes once, and then he meows. “I don’t think he likes me,” Junhwe says nervously, and Jinhwan laughs. He says not to worry about it. As quickly as they had come, the two cats stalk off: Jiwon disappears under the large workbench, and Hanbin leaves the workshop through its open door. Jinhwan gazes at Jiwon before smiling up at Junhwe.

“Would you like some lunch?”  
Junhwe is about to decline (he should probably be heading back) when his stomach betrays him with the loudest, longest rumble Junhwe has ever heard it make. “Um, yeah, that’d be nice,” he mutters sheepishly. Jinhwan just smiles.

They walk to Jinhwan’s cottage and enter through the back door. Junhwe looks around curiously; this must be what’s behind the curtain. It’s one large room, sparsely furnished and decorated, but very clean. The kitchen area is separated from Jinhwan’s bed by a mid-sized shelf, and across from where the bed is tucked away are a television and a large cat tree. Perched atop the tree and scrutinizing the pair is Hanbin. He mews at Jinhwan, who just shakes his head. Junhwe stands nervously in the middle of the room until Jinhwan pulls his shirt off and tosses it into a basket in the corner. Junhwe deliberately averts his gaze and throws himself (perhaps a little too hard) into one of the chairs at the small table in the kitchen. The table is positioned right across from the large window above the sink, so to distract himself from Jinhwan’s (bare and toned) torso, Junhwe looks outside. It’s midafternoon by now, and the sun is meandering back down to disappear beyond the edge of the world. The ocean is a brilliant blue, the rolling waves glittering beneath the light of the sun. It’s mesmerizing…

 _Here in the soft light of the dawn, we stand,_  
_And as the waves draw back, you take my hand._  
_Onward you take me, heart, mind, soul,_  
_Pulling me closer till again I am whole._  
_We arrive at the seats you’ve reserved by sea,_  
_And with a pot brewed from stars you offer me—_

“Tea?” Jinhwan asks as he strolls into the kitchen.  
Junhwe blinks, shaken out of his daydreams. “Um, sure,” he says lamely.

Although Jinhwan had changed into a clean sweatshirt, he’s still in the same tattered jeans that are riddled with holes and covered in paint splatters. Junhwe watches as Jinhwan moves about the kitchen. He puts a kettle on the stove, pulls some fish out of his refrigerator, and starts to cook. It’s some sort of pasta dish from what Junhwe can tell. Jinhwan hands Junhwe a cup of tea when it’s ready, and when their fingers touch, Junhwe’s whole body starts tingling. He frowns pensively at the cup, and then he starts sipping his tea and tries not to feel awkward while Jinhwan is cooking. After a while Jinhwan slides a plate of food in front Junhwe, who takes a bite. It’s delicious. One of the best things Junhwe’s ever eaten, to be honest. What is it with the people on this island? Why are they all so good at cooking? Junhwe is glaring at his plate as he thinks about this, but his musings are interrupted by Jinhwan. “You don’t like it?” Junhwe looks up and blinks stupidly. Jinhwan is wearing his wry smile, his posture relaxed, and he’s gazing at Junhwe with something like placid affection. Junhwe blushes, but whether it’s from embarrassment or something else, he isn’t quite sure. “No, it’s really good,” he mutters. Jinhwan’s smile gets a little broader, his eyes crinkling, and Junhwe’s heart does a somersault. He swallows. This can’t be happening.

Junhwe describes his attraction to men as a sudden and strong but seldom desire for dick. Donghyuk describes it as an intense headache. Most of Junhwe’s sexual encounters with men are casual, so Donghyuk wants to kill him every time. It’s a PR nightmare waiting to happen, apparently. The media circus surrounding Junhwe’s last relationship (and the two times she had cheated, which Junhwe had learned about through the tabloids like the rest of the country) had been so frustrating and awful that Donghyuk had pulled him aside to caution him against sleeping around. “ _I_ don’t care who you sleep with,” Donghyuk had said, “but the public does.” Junhwe is too famous now. Too much in the spotlight. He can’t blindly trust some random person in the club to be discreet… But Junhwe hasn’t slept with anyone since his breakup anyway, and even though it pains him to admit it, Donghyuk is right: He can’t have any casual relationships unless he wants his whole world to implode. The one good thing about his last relationship is, perhaps, that he’d been so distraught by the way it had ended that he’s had no real desire to seek out anyone—female, male, or otherwise.

But a seldom attraction to men doesn’t mean never, so Junhwe is irritated to find himself so hopelessly attracted to Jinhwan. It’s absurd, really. He’d seen Jinhwan a few times when he’d collected seawater, and then he’d spent a day in the guy’s company, and now he’s got a crush. Stupid. Pathetic. Or maybe Junhwe is just lonely and desperate. Whatever the case, his feelings are concerning at worst, inconvenient at best, and frankly not at all what Junhwe needs right now. Certainly not now that he’s supposed to be recuperating and writing an album. He shovels pasta moodily into his mouth. Or maybe a silly crush is exactly what Junhwe needs to fuel his emotions so that he can write music and write it well. 

His brooding is disrupted by loud meows. Hanbin pads into the kitchen and springs lightly into Jinhwan’s lap. He settles himself there, purring so loudly that Junhwe can hear it. Jiwon follows Hanbin and twists himself around Jinhwan’s legs, also purring. “It’s fine,” Jinhwan says to Hanbin as he scratches behind Hanbin’s ears. “You can go back in the room.” Junhwe frowns at Jinhwan and the cats. Is Jinhwan… talking to them like they can understand? He must be a male version of the crazy cat lady types Junhwe has heard about. Jiwon stalks off (though not before giving Junhwe another stern look, and Junhwe is sure he’s losing his mind), but Hanbin meows and rubs his face against Jinhwan’s stomach. Jinhwan laughs, his expression apologetic. “Sorry,” he says to Junhwe. “Hanbin can be sort of clingy and possessive.” Junhwe isn’t exactly sure what to say to that.

They finish eating, and Jinhwan cleans up while Junhwe hovers behind him awkwardly. Hanbin sniffs at him, then mews before hopping up onto the counter to watch Jinhwan wash the dishes. The rest of the day Jinhwan works in the studio on more glass sculptures while Junhwe tries to make music, and the two cats poke their heads in every so often to meow at them. Eventually Junhwe announces that he should leave, Jinhwan walks him to the hill, and then Junhwe goes the rest of the way to the B&B alone. 

This becomes a pattern: Junhwe meets Jinhwan by the hill in the morning, they work in his studio until lunch, and then they work some more until Junhwe goes back to the B&B at night. Jinhwan is easy to talk to because he seems so sincerely interested in whatever Junhwe is saying, which is refreshing because most of the people in Junhwe’s life couldn’t care less about his thoughts and feelings. All they want from him is his next big song, or a piece of his next big paycheck, or a slice of his soul for their next big story. Even Donghyuk, who is Junhwe’s oldest and truest friend, is only that because he’s paid to be. Even though Junhwe is sure that Donghyuk would never leave him or betray him, he still has a tiny, niggling fear that Donghyuk doesn’t actually care about him—him, Goo Junhwe the person, not June the megastar. Regardless of whether Junhwe is depressed enough to think Donghyuk secretly hates him, it’s still nice to talk to someone who has only met Junhwe the person and doesn’t know or care about June the artist. So Jinhwan and Junhwe talk, and they work, and Jinhwan even teaches Junhwe about glassblowing. Junhwe makes three cups: the first (and ugliest) he gives to Donghyuk; the second he keeps for himself; and the third he decides to give to Jinhwan.

So pass the months on the island, and so swells Junhwe’s crush.

He’s written five songs that he thinks are decent enough, and Donghyuk sends one to the producers. Their responses are generally favorable, and Junhwe starts to relax a little. Maybe ending up on this stupid rock hadn’t been that inauspicious after all… So with a renewed sort of hope, he slides a box with the cup he’d made inside it across the table to Jinhwan while they’re having lunch one day. Junhwe had been careful so as to prevent Jinhwan from catching on that he would be receiving the cup. “Gotta give Donghyuk something nicer than the crap I gave him before,” Junhwe had said to Jinhwan. Under the watchful eye of Hanbin (who had come to find Junhwe’s lap to be a rather pleasant napping spot), Junhwe had done his best to paint swirls of blues and greens around the cup in a pattern reminiscent of the ocean’s waves. He had been inspired by the glass teardrop Jinhwan had given him on their first meeting, and Junhwe had thought it might be nice to pay a little tribute to that time when he’d really made quite a fool of himself. The memory fades as Hanbin hops into Junhwe’s lap and curls up, purring. Jinhwan opens the box and pulls out the cup, and he looks surprised for a moment, and then his mouth twists into a wry smile.

“Thank you.”

Junhwe can’t tear his eyes from Jinhwan’s face…

 _I look into the depths of your ageless eyes,_  
_And in your crooked smile it is love that I find._  
_Though we are from and must go worlds apart,_  
_I offer you this piece carved from my heart._

“Junhwe?”  
Junhwe blinks. “Yeah?”  
“You were zoning out.”  
“Sorry,” Junhwe mutters, a flush creeping into his cheeks.  
“It’s beautiful. I can tell you poured your whole heart into it,” Jinhwan says in a soft voice.

He places the glass on the window sill in the kitchen, and flecks of green and blue light are flung all around the room. Junhwe looks around at them, mouth agape, amazed that he could have created something so beautiful.

_Its green and blue lights hold the soul of the sea;  
Perhaps their beauty will entice you to stay here with me._

Junhwe is far away again, down on the beach. Jinhwan is holding a bottle of seawater. With his free hand he pushes Junhwe’s bangs out of his eyes and grins. Then he turns away and lifts the bottle up to the sun to let the light filter through it, and the seawater glitters. He looks over his shoulder at Junhwe, his characteristic wry smile on his face, and he says something that Junhwe can’t quite hear…

 _I look into the depths of your ageless eyes,_  
_And in your crooked smile it is love that I find._  
_Though we are from and must go worlds apart,_  
_I offer you this piece carved from my heart._  
_Its green and blue lights hold the soul of the sea;_  
_Perhaps their beauty will entice you to stay here with me._

“Junhwe?”

Again, Jinhwan’s voice shakes Junhwe from his reverie. When Junhwe looks up, he is startled to see Jinhwan standing right beside him, leaning easily against the table. Junhwe swallows. “It really is beautiful,” Jinhwan whispers. He reaches out to cup Junhwe’s cheek in his hand, leans in closer, and…

They kiss.


	2. Abyssum abyssus invocat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I didn’t know then what I wanted, but the ache for it was palpable.”  
>  \- Sue Monk Kidd, The Mermaid Chair_
> 
> Deep calleth unto deep.

“You should not have done that.”

Jinhwan glances at his cat and raises his eyebrows. Hanbin sighs, rolls his eyes, and swishes his tail.

“A thousand pardons. You should not have done that, _Sire._ ”

Jinhwan places the last dish on the drying rack, wipes his hands, and runs a finger around the rim of the glass that Junhwe had made for him. From off to his left somewhere he can hear Hanbin huff, and then the cat leaps gracefully off the counter and stalks away. Jinhwan pours himself a cup of seawater and sits at the table. Hanbin is perched atop it, his tail curled around his feet. He’s licking one paw and cleaning his face with it. Jinhwan sips his water. This is Hanbin’s version of a tantrum; Jinhwan will wait it out. After several silent minutes, Hanbin yowls. Jinhwan sets his cup down and smiles.

“I know you know you should not have done that.”  
Jinhwan tilts his head. “Why not? He made me something nice, and he likes me.”  
“You shouldn’t toy with his feelings like that,” Hanbin says, and his tail twitches. “Am I not right, Jiwon?”  
The black cat is lounging on the counter in a patch of sun. He cracks open one eye. “What are you two bickering about now?”  
Hanbin meows indignantly. “His Majesty does not _bicker,_ and neither do I for that matter, and for your information, Jiwon, we are discussing the rather unwise decision His Majesty made earlier today.”  
“Right,” Jiwon says with a yawn. “His Majesty is often in the habit of making unwise decisions, so are we referring to the sculpture he destroyed this morning or to the perfectly good salmon he fed to Junhwe rather than to me?”

Jinhwan snorts as Hanbin hisses. Jiwon, not bothered in the slightest, stretches and bounds nimbly from the countertop. He makes his way languidly to where Jinhwan is sitting, springs into Jinhwan’s lap, and settles himself there, purring contentedly. Jinhwan scratches Jiwon behind the ears. Hanbin is overreacting, perhaps, and Jiwon is being too lackadaisical, perhaps, and Jinhwan, perhaps, feels somewhere in between. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that he shouldn’t have kissed Junhwe at all, nor would he say that he’s toying with the other man’s feelings, but he does admit that it is a somewhat delicate situation. More of an issue than Jiwon seems to think, at any rate. Despite Hanbin’s complaints, though, Jinhwan likes Junhwe, and he thinks that should count for something. Junhwe is funny and thoughtful and one of the most interesting people Jinhwan has met since he’d come to the human world almost ten years ago. He’s also quite nice to look at. Handsome, yes, but also cute when he gets flustered (which happens pretty much any time Jinhwan talks to him), cute when he glares at his notebook when he’s writing lyrics, cute when he’s hunched over his little glass cup in concentration… He’s just so charming. Jiwon’s head bumps Jinhwan’s hand and he mews; Jinhwan had stopped petting him. Jinhwan resumes scratching Jiwon’s head with a quiet sigh.

“You were thinking about him, weren’t you?” Hanbin says, his tone both disapproving and accusatory.  
Jinhwan drains his cup. “And that’s a crime?”  
Hanbin stretches out, one of his front paws on Jinhwan’s shoulder, and with the other he taps Jinhwan on the nose.  
“You have obligations to your people, and the King expects you to honor them.”

Jinhwan takes both of Hanbin’s front legs and pushes them aside, tosses Jiwon from his lap, and stomps over to his studio. Hanbin frets too much. Besides, he’d grown just as fond of Junhwe as Jinhwan has if the amount of time he spends lounging in Junhwe’s lap is any indication. Jinhwan takes two bottles of seawater from the crate outside his studio and brings them in. He sits in front of his giant stained-glass mural and surveys it with a frown. It’s nearly finished... He’s started the fourth and final panel, the sea at sunset, and he’s surprised by his bittersweet feelings. He had begun and planned to finish the mural in time for his departure from the human world, but now he isn’t so sure that he wants to finish it at all. But he had promised it to his agent on the mainland who had promised it to a museum that had already scheduled an exhibition around it. It’s to be called Sea of Glass or something (Jinhwan hadn’t much cared to remember), and it’s already causing a stir. Enigmatic glass artist Jinhwan to retire? A final exhibition with his grandest work yet? Well, Jinhwan is glad for the interest because then his agent, at least, can enjoy some wealth; the rest he’ll donate to charities. Charities devoted to the protection of the ocean, of course.

Jinhwan uncorks the two bottles of seawater, closes his eyes, and breathes in deep. With a flick of his finger the water from one of the bottles streams out. A few waves of his hands and the water is a thin, shimmering rectangle. Jinhwan holds it in place with one hand, and with his other he draws lines in the air with a finger. Glowing lines appear on the water, following the movement of his finger, and then the colors of the pieces start to change. Jinhwan pushes his power from his fingertips to the water block and exhales as the water turns to glass and the pieces float one by one to the floor. He dabs at the sweat on his temples with the back of his wrist, and then with more deliberate hand motions, the pieces slide into place in the mural. Magic does the work of foil and solder, and in no time at all, each piece has been securely put in its place. He’s only added a few more rows, but the work is draining (particularly mentally), so Jinhwan pulls the water from the other bottle. He twists and shapes the water into whatever comes to mind, and when the finished product drops into his palms, he is surprised to find that it is exactly the same as the sculpture he’d given Junhwe when they’d first met. The only difference is that this one is bigger. He runs a finger along the curve of the cool glass and thinks of Junhwe. If only Jinhwan could…

“Worry not, Your Highness, Hanbin is merely overreacting.”

The languorous voice of Jiwon drifts over to Jinhwan. The cat meanders toward Jinhwan and bumps his head against Jinhwan’s elbow. His purring is so strong and deep that it rattles Jinhwan’s bones, but it is comforting. The purring eventually becomes a long low note, and Jinhwan finds himself humming. _The moon is bright, as is my soul, and neither wave nor I can resist its call…_ Jiwon’s vocalizing dissipates into soft purring, and the tip of his tail swishes. Jinhwan sets the glass sculpture down in front of him. He feels much calmer. 

“It’s quite beautiful,” Jiwon says after a while, nodding toward the sculpture.  
“I made it without really thinking.”  
Jiwon takes several steps toward it and sniffs at it. “I seem to recall something similar sitting on the window sill in the front of the shop.”  
“Yeah, there was a smaller one. It’s gone now though.”  
“Oh? And what happened to it?”  
Jinhwan runs a hand through his hair. “I gave it to Junhwe the first time he came to the shop.”  
Jiwon taps the glass once with one of his claws. “And without thinking you made another?”  
Jinhwan nods, and Jiwon turns his unsettling yellow eyes toward him.  
“Even Hanbin would have no trouble reading such signs, my Lord.”

Jinhwan isn’t ready for that implication. He takes a swipe at Jiwon, who dodges easily and pads back over to Jinhwan, laughing. He places a paw on Jinhwan’s knee. “If you truly care for him, Sire, then there is naught to do but convince His Royal Highness, our venerable King.” Jiwon bows his head in reverence, and Jinhwan looks away from him to frown at the sculpture. Jiwon makes it sound so easy. “We had an agreement,” Jinhwan says finally. The King is not so cruel a creature that he would force Jinhwan and Junhwe to remain apart if Jinhwan were in love (not that that’s what this is), but there are still several barriers: Junhwe cannot live in the Deep, for starters, and Jinhwan had negotiated for his time on dry land; this negotiation had included a number of tasks he must complete upon his return, and the King would never forgive Jinhwan for reneging on his promises. And yet, the King has many other daughters and sons, so it is possible that he would consider his youngest son’s eccentricities and let him live abovewater. But Jinhwan is thinking way too far ahead. He’ll see where they are once he’s about ready to leave, and then he’ll reconsider his options. With a sigh he lies down on the floor, and a few seconds later he feels Jiwon’s heavy weight on his chest. Jiwon licks Jinhwan’s cheek and then rests his head beneath Jinhwan’s chin. He’s purring again, and Jinhwan can feel his whole body vibrating.

“So what’s your advice?”  
“My counsel is as always unchanged, my Lord: Trust your instincts, and I shall support you. If I perceive a threat, then I shall advise you.”  
“Not sure how helpful that is, but thanks.”

***

Junhwe still comes over daily, so not much has changed except now there is kissing and a lot more affectionate touching. But (as Hanbin reminds Jinhwan nearly every night) Junhwe is a human, and human hearts are fragile and unsubtle. In other words, it has become increasingly clear that Junhwe now cares very deeply for Jinhwan—and Jinhwan himself is not immune to the (troubling, Hanbin would call them) feelings that he is developing. But it’s like he’d told Jiwon and Hanbin a month ago: He _likes_ Junhwe. Junhwe is funny and tender and cute, and he likes Jinhwan for Jinhwan. Jinhwan isn’t entirely sure that he’s had anyone other than his cats care about him as a person.

He is a son of the King of the Deep so everyone cares about him, but only insofar as he exists. He is the youngest of many wiser, stronger, and abler daughters and sons, so no one has ever paid any special attention to His Royal Goofiness, the Seventh Oddity of the Deep. Or so he’d overheard members of the Court call him. It matters little, however, that the Court and even his own family don’t understand him because his sole purpose in life is to fade away quietly into the background to make way for Her Royal Highness, First Princess of the Deep, the Queen Rising. Jinhwan rolls over in his bed with a sigh and buries his face into Hanbin’s soft fur. Jinhwan had not been mistreated growing up in the Deep, but he had been ignored. The seventh of seven sons, the twelfth of twelve children. This is why, he supposes in retrospect, he’d been so captivated by the human world when he’d first arrived. Well, he says captivated; Jiwon says he’d run wild. Perhaps. But down in the Deep the ways for him to express himself had been few, and no one had cared about his waterweaving, so when Jiwon had suggested going abovewater, Jinhwan had jumped at the chance. In the human world, he’d been adored. For the first time in his life, Jinhwan had been the center of attention.

The first few years he’d soaked up the esteem and the stardom that had come with the beauty of his art, but the novelty of public adulation had worn off and become exhaustion from public scrutiny. He’d slept his way around the art world, too, relishing the adoration, until even the attentions of the people around him had begun to make him feel empty. Hanbin would tell him later that it had been distance from the sea, but Jinhwan isn’t so sure. He wonders if this is how his oldest sister feels every day—constantly surrounded by people and their love, yet feeling so totally alone.

So almost four years ago now, on Jiwon’s advice, Jinhwan had retreated to this little island to refill his soul with the peace and repose of the sea. Jinhwan had been born from the sea, grown up in the embrace of the waves and the touch of the moon, so he had taken those things for granted. But once he had been engulfed by the constant cacophony of human cities, beneath their bright lights that obscure the soft glow of the stars, his senses had dulled and he had forgotten the calm and comfort that he had once found in the tides. It had not been until he’d breathed in the salty ocean spray, let the waves tickle his feet and bury them in the cool sand, heard the call of the gulls and the whispers of the wind that he’d remembered how much he truly loves the sea. How much he misses it. How much it is a part of the very fiber of his being. Jiwon mews quietly and curls up in the curve of the back of Jinhwan’s neck. He purrs, long and low and deep, and Jinhwan’s anxious mind begins to quiet down.

He had been healed by the sea, this much is true, but Jinhwan had missed the companionship of other people. His cats had kept him from feeling completely isolated, but they have always done this; Jinhwan had had a taste of friendship in the human world, and he had longed to feel it again. Junhwe gives him that now. Junhwe fills the hole in Jinhwan’s heart where the sea and the Deep had once been. He thinks Junhwe could keep him here, abovewater, but still… Jinhwan had promised. With a groan he sits up and runs a hand through his hair. Jinhwan is many things, but capricious is not one of them, and he’d like to think that if he had to choose between duty and love, between promises already made and trysts not yet begun, he’d pick duty. He sets his cup down on the counter and stares out the window in the kitchen. There’s a mist rolling in from the sea. _Love._ He drags a hand down his face. Love. Jinhwan doesn’t know what to think anymore, but he has three months to figure it out. To figure out if it’s as deep as—

“Sire?”

Jinhwan turns around to see Jiwon peering around the corner of the shelf that separates Jinhwan’s bed from the kitchen. He yawns, his tail swishing. Jinhwan sits at the table with a sigh, and Jiwon hops into his lap. He rubs his face against Jinhwan’s belly, purring quietly.

“Would _you _give it up?” Jinhwan asks.__

__He doesn’t expect an answer, and Jiwon doesn’t offer one._ _


	3. Rosa rugosa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I breathe in the fragrance of love and moist sand; the one his roses left on both my hands.”  
>  \- Sanober Khan, “I Breathe In”_
> 
> A wrinkled rose.

Junhwe is positive that he’s completely, hopelessly, honest to god in love with Jinhwan. He realizes it when he’s strumming absently on his guitar (Donghyuk had finally had it shipped over) and happens to look up to see Jinhwan tapping his cheek with his paintbrush thoughtfully. He’s so absorbed in whatever it is that he’s thinking about that he doesn’t notice that he’s getting globs of red paint all over his face. Junhwe’s heart swells about fifty sizes at the sight, filled to the brim with affection, and it is only an aggravated meow from Hanbin that pulls Junhwe back to his senses. But that had been the moment Junhwe had realized the depth of his feelings—when he had found himself so overcome by emotion at something so innocuous. He’s in love. It’s deeper than just kissing for fun.

The revelation troubles him for the rest of the day, even up until the moment that Jinhwan stands on tiptoe to kiss him goodbye. Jinhwan starts to step back, his characteristic wry smile on his face, when Junhwe suddenly closes the distance between them and leans down to kiss Jinhwan again. Jinhwan laughs into Junhwe’s lips as Junhwe’s arms curl around his waist. He takes half a step back but is still very much in Junhwe’s space, and then he reaches up to run a finger gently down the side of Junhwe’s cheek. His touch is so tender and so intimate that Junhwe’s whole body starts tingling, and a pleasant warmth settles in his stomach. He never wants to let Jinhwan go. He wants to hold Jinhwan right here in his arms, enveloped in a cool sea breeze, lulled into a lazy stupor by the rhythmic breaking of the waves upon the shore. But Jinhwan pulls Junhwe’s arms from his waist and gives Junhwe’s hands an affectionate squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiles in the way that makes his eyes crinkle, and Junhwe again feels that warmth spread throughout his body. But then Jinhwan lets go of Junhwe’s hands, and it’s like he sucks all of that warmth right back out. He waves goodbye and heads back home, and Junhwe feels empty.

Junhwe wanders aimlessly about the village once he gets back. He looks at all of the little glass sculptures around town, and it’s as though each one adds a weight to Junhwe’s chest that grows heavier and heavier until he shuffles back into the B&B, hunched over, weighed down by the force of his own feelings. He collapses onto his bed and buries his face into his pillow, crying for no reason at all like he’s a teenager again. When he finally stops, snot, drool, and tears are all over his face and pillow, and his eyes are puffy, red, and stinging. Junhwe heaves himself up into a sitting position and squints at the glass teardrop. He wipes his face as best he can with his sleeve, picks up the sculpture, and peers at it. It is honestly so captivating. Junhwe has watched Jinhwan make all sorts of larger glass sculptures, but never small and complex ones like this. They just seem to appear overnight… Junhwe sets the sculpture back down, sniffling, and wonders if Jinhwan has ever made anything while thinking of him.

_Do you dream of me as I dream of you?  
Does your heart call out in yearning too?_

Junhwe rubs his eyes with a sigh and drags himself from his bed. He washes his face, puts on a clean shirt, and heads for Donghyuk’s room. He can hear the TV, so he knocks. Donghyuk calls that the door open, so Junhwe shuffles inside. He must look as miserable as he feels because Donghyuk immediately switches the TV off and sits up, his expression serious. “What’s wrong, Junhwe?” Junhwe drops onto Donghyuk’s bed, avoiding his gaze. Donghyuk isn’t going to be happy.

“So about a month ago Jinhwan and I started making out all the time,” Junhwe says. Donghyuk opens and closes his mouth a few times, then squints at Junhwe expectantly. When Junhwe offers no further explanation, Donghyuk pinches the bridge of his nose with a groan.  
“All right, well—all right. I guess. All right.” He runs a hand distractedly through his hair and looks very much like he’s trying to find a way to tell Junhwe off while also being sensitive to his feelings. He frowns. “Have you slept with him?”  
Junhwe picks at his fingernails. “No.”  
Donghyuk breathes out a sigh of relief. “Good, then you can stop without it being super awkward.”  
“I think it would be awkward regardless.”  
Donghyuk drags his hands down his face with a groan. “Oh my god, Goo Junhwe, do you _like_ him?”

In response Junhwe fidgets, and Donghyuk lies down and bangs his head into his pillow. After a full minute of lying there, Donghyuk sits up and slings an arm around Junhwe’s shoulders with a resigned sigh. “Just be careful.” He’d come here to heal, not to be hurt again, Donghyuk reminds him. Junhwe tries to explain to Donghyuk that when he’s with Jinhwan he _is_ healed, he’s whole again, but the words don’t come. It’s impossible to express how Jinhwan makes him feel because the feeling is so raw and goes so deep that Junhwe himself doesn’t understand it. He is confused by it. He is frightened by it. But he has Donghyuk’s support even though the whole affair makes Donghyuk’s job harder, and that support, at least, is comforting. Junhwe doesn’t have anyone else. 

Junhwe spends the night tossing and turning, plagued by nightmares. He’s on the same beach by the cliff, but in every dream, Jinhwan’s hand slides from Junhwe’s as he steps into the water and melts away. Junhwe runs after Jinhwan, trying to grasp any sliver of the light of Jinhwan’s soul that is being swept out to sea, but every bit of it slips through his fingertips and he is left all alone. 

_Do you dream of me as I dream of you?_  
_Does your heart call out in yearning too?_  
_Or does your mind change with each coming day_  
_As your soul sails to the sky on the crest of a wave?_  
_Am I destined to stand here, at the edge of the shore,_  
_My body aching in longing, alone evermore?_

Junhwe is always alone.

He doesn’t visit Jinhwan the next day. Junhwe has gone down to the hill to meet Jinhwan on the beach every day since their first awkward encounter; he’s never missed a single day. But now he’s so overwhelmed by his own emotions that he simply cannot bear to see Jinhwan. When they’re together, everything is fine, but when they part, Junhwe is plagued by doubts. His last relationship had failed spectacularly, _publicly,_ and the last thing Junhwe wants is to go through that trauma again. Donghyuk’s voice floats up from the back of Junhwe’s mind: _Just be careful._ It’s way past that point now, Junhwe thinks. He’s already a mess.

But the next morning finds him trudging along the coast to meet Jinhwan by the hill. All the tears he’d spilled yesterday had emptied his heart and soul of every emotion, and all Junhwe feels now is numb. To his surprise, however, Jinhwan is sitting on top of the hill, waiting for him. For all of the months they have met like this, Jinhwan has always been down at the edge of the water, filling his bottles, and he would only acknowledge Junhwe once he’d finished. But today he is on the hill, and once he spots Junhwe, he leaps to his feet and jogs over to meet Junhwe halfway. Jinhwan hesitates for a moment in front of Junhwe, and then he flings his arms around Junhwe’s neck, his whole body pressed against Junhwe’s as if he’s trying his hardest to meld them together. “I missed you yesterday,” Jinhwan mumbles into Junhwe’s neck. “I missed you so much.” Junhwe’s bewilderment at Jinhwan’s actions morphs quickly into a mixture of guilt and joy, and he wraps his arms around Jinhwan, pulling him even closer. He lets his head rest in the curve of Jinhwan’s neck and breathes in deep. Jinhwan smells, as always, like the fresh, crisp scent of ocean spray, but also faintly of roses. He smells like home. Junhwe holds even tighter to Jinhwan, trembling slightly. It’s as though all the warmth that had been sucked from Junhwe’s soul in their time apart is being poured back in. He’s being healed.

Junhwe has no idea how long they stay like that before he can feel Jinhwan pulling back a little. He loosens his grip, and Jinhwan drops lightly back on his feet. Junhwe blinks. He hadn’t even realized that he’d picked Jinhwan up. Jinhwan gazes up at Junhwe, his eyes full of love, and then he cups Junhwe’s face in one hand. His thumb runs slowly, gently, across Junhwe’s cheek, and then he smiles his wry smile. Junhwe feels like a complete fool for having doubted Jinhwan’s feelings. He leans down to kiss Jinhwan, who giggles against his lips, and when his hands start to wander, he is surprised that Jinhwan doesn’t push them away like he usually does. But Jinhwan does pull away from Junhwe eventually (much too soon in Junhwe’s opinion), and with an embarrassed laugh he says that he really needs to get his seawater. They walk hand in hand down to the water’s edge, and with a smile Jinhwan hands a bottle to Junhwe. It’s the first time he’s ever asked Junhwe to help him. Flustered but happy, Junhwe helps Jinhwan fill all of his bottles. The rest of the day passes as normally as ever, and Junhwe is content.

The next two months fly by in the blink of an eye and suddenly it’s the end of the year. Junhwe has spent almost a whole year on the island—much longer than he’s sure even Donghyuk had intended—but it has been good for him. He feels like a real person again, like he had before his popularity had exploded. He’s also written ten full songs, and he’s confident in them. All he needs to do is record them at the studio and fix them up, and he’d like to add two more songs or so to the lineup, just to round it out. All of this has made Donghyuk happy, and his producers are happy, and they’re talking about a triumphant comeback for him next fall. Everything is coming together.

It’s late now, later than Junhwe usually stays at Jinhwan’s house, but Jinhwan had cooked him dinner too. He’s been doing that a lot recently—he tries to find excuses for Junhwe to stay longer and longer, and Junhwe has noticed a sort of desperation in Jinhwan’s eyes. A sort of fear. But whenever he asks Jinhwan what’s wrong, Jinhwan just gives him that wry smile and says it’s nothing. He’s been particularly preoccupied all day today, however, and Junhwe isn’t sure what to make of it. He’d been short at dinner, and when Junhwe had just tried to leave, Jinhwan had begged him to stay. “Let me just fix something up in the studio, five minutes tops.” Junhwe hadn’t much desired to be around Jinhwan when he’s in one of these moods, but he also never really wants to leave Jinhwan either, so in the end he had stayed. With a sigh he sits on Jinhwan’s bed, absently stroking Jiwon’s belly. “What’s gotten into him?” he mutters, and Jiwon meows. “I guess you wouldn’t know, huh?” Jiwon fixes Junhwe with a penetrating stare, tail swishing. _I certainly would,_ he seems to be saying. Junhwe is giving serious consideration to asking a cat about its owner’s worries when Jinhwan returns from outside.

He’s carrying Hanbin in his arms and looks just as troubled as he has all day. He’s whispering in the cat’s ear, and after Hanbin glances at Junhwe (or at least Junhwe thinks he does), he licks Jinhwan’s cheek. Jinhwan sets Hanbin down on the bed, and Hanbin noses at Jiwon, meowing softly. Jiwon looks from Hanbin to Jinhwan, who holds Jiwon’s gaze for a moment, and then he gets up, stretches, and scampers from the room, followed closely by Hanbin. Jinhwan takes Jiwon’s spot beside Junhwe. He still seems conflicted and confused, but he reaches out to take Junhwe’s hand. His hand is freezing, and Junhwe instinctively envelops Jinhwan’s hand in both of his and massages it lightly in an attempt to warm it up. Jinhwan has always been cool to the touch, but this is ridiculous. Junhwe doesn’t ask for permission to do it to the other hand, but he does it anyway while Jinhwan watches the whole process with an emotionless expression. Once Junhwe finishes, he curls an arm around Jinhwan’s shoulders and pulls him close, and Jinhwan takes Junhwe’s free hand in both of his. He traces patterns absently on Junhwe’s hand, his touch gentle, and Junhwe swallows hard.

“What’s wrong?”

Junhwe’s voice sounds strange to his ears, faraway and strained, and it takes Jinhwan several long moments to stop playing with Junhwe’s fingers and look up at him. His face is still vacant, but there’s a heaviness in his eyes. He seems scared and unsure, yet also as though he’d very much like to say something. In the end, however, he says nothing, and Junhwe’s grip on Jinhwan’s shoulder tightens. He leans in and kisses Jinhwan tenderly, and then he starts nuzzling into Jinhwan’s neck. “What’s wrong?” he mumbles, and Jinhwan lets go of Junhwe’s hand to thread his fingers through Junhwe’s hair. Junhwe pulls back but presses their foreheads together, and Jinhwan smiles. It isn’t his crooked smile or the smile that makes his eyes crinkle; it’s a soft, private smile, and the sight of it makes Junhwe feel warm. 

Still, though, Jinhwan says nothing. Instead, he kisses Junhwe (perhaps a little desperately), and eventually Junhwe finds himself naked beneath Jinhwan, who tosses him a wry grin. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he whispers into Junhwe’s ear. He had asked two other times as they’d gotten closer to this moment, and both times Junhwe had assured him that he is indeed okay with it. But he chokes out again that _yes,_ he’s okay with it (enthusiastically so), and with another crooked smile Jinhwan kisses him, one of his hands trailing lightly up Junhwe’s thigh.

***

Junhwe wakes up in a blissful daze, a little sore, but the feeling is not entirely unpleasant. He rubs his face with his hand and exhales slowly, and then he stumbles into the bathroom to take a leak. They had had sex twice, and the memory fills Junhwe with warmth. Best sex of his life. He comes back out of the bathroom and frowns at the bed because Jinhwan isn’t in it, and then he looks around for his clothes. They’re folded neatly on the shelf, and pinned under them is a note: _Beach._ It’s the middle of the night; why would Jinhwan be there? Junhwe flips the note over, but it says nothing else, so he gets dressed. The high he had been feeling is rapidly dissipating, and the only thing he can think about is how upset Jinhwan has been all day. He stuffs his feet moodily into his shoes and stomps outside.

The air is biting cold and the wind is strong. Junhwe shoves his hands into his armpits, teeth chattering, and heads down toward the water. He had expected Jinhwan to be by their hill, but to his surprise Jinhwan is standing at the water’s edge still within sight of the cottage. He is illuminated beneath the light of the full moon, and as Junhwe gets closer, he can even make out the shapes of both of Jinhwan’s cats. Odd. By now Junhwe is close enough to see Jinhwan clearly, but the sight makes him balk. A man wearing only a pair of loose shorts is standing between two cats, one black and one white, and all three are as still as statues. The two cats are sitting alert, tails curled around their feet. Without a doubt Junhwe is looking at Hanbin and Jiwon, but the man—if he even is one—between them _can’t_ be Jinhwan. Jinhwan—or whatever it is—has greyish white skin and deep green swirls tattooed all over his body. Jinhwan had been a little wan, sure, but nothing like the figure before Junhwe now. Besides, Junhwe had just seen Jinhwan naked, and there had been no tattoos. What is going on?

Before Junhwe can do or say anything, Hanbin opens his mouth and starts vocalizing. It isn’t a meow or a yowl or a purr or a hiss or any sound that cats make—it is a beautiful, doleful series of notes, as clear and light as any human voice. Moments later he is joined by Jiwon, whose tone is much lower than Hanbin’s, and together they are harmonizing to create a sound that is so heartrending and yet so beautiful. Junhwe is filled with a longing he doesn’t understand, slowly his hands curl into fists, and he trembles. His eyes are drawn to Jinhwan—or whoever or whatever it is—who walks knee-deep into the water. Then with a great sweep of his hands, the water pushes Jinhwan up, and he’s standing on it, and he’s dancing. He moves lithely, easily, and around him the sea rises up in bands, twisting together to form intricate patterns. The water is woven into a huge geometrical design, and with a push of Jinhwan’s hands, it hardens into glistening glass. The shimmering sculpture hangs in the air for only a few seconds before Jinhwan inhales deeply and then shoves forward and—the sculpture explodes into thousands of tiny pieces. He holds them in the air with one hand, and with his other he pulls up a great wave. With one movement he throws all the little pieces into the wave, and then… Junhwe’s eyes widen. It’s the night sky. Each little piece is now a star. Just as the cats’ song is reaching its climax, Jinhwan pushes up, and up the glass sky goes. He holds it up, and in the moonlight it glitters, and Junhwe doesn’t even dare to breathe.

But then Jinhwan pulls his hands together and the sculpture is crushed into a ball, and as Jinhwan’s hands slowly drop back to his sides, the ball dissolves into droplets of seawater. The water platform he had been dancing on sinks back into the ocean as well, and just as his feet touch the sand, the cats finish their song. He stands for a long moment in the sea, staring up at the starry sky, and then he moves heavily back to the shore. He kneels down in the sand, and his cats run to him. He gathers them into his arms and buries his face in their fur, and Junhwe knows it is Jinhwan. It must be. He swallows and runs a hand through his hair distractedly, and then he starts making his way toward Jinhwan. Junhwe sits beside him and waits, and after a while, Jinhwan looks up. Hanbin and Jiwon lie down in front of him, watchful eyes trained on him, tails swishing. Jinhwan faces Junhwe, and Junhwe recoils.

Jinhwan’s skin is indeed greyish white, but up close it’s even clearer that it isn’t any natural shade. The tattoos, too, cover the whole length of his body, swirling down from his cheeks to the very tips of his toes. His ears come to points, and his eyes are completely black. He has long fingers and toes with black claws, and his hands and feet are webbed. When he whispers Junhwe’s name, Junhwe notices that his teeth are long and sharp. Junhwe doesn’t know what this thing is, but it cannot be Jinhwan. 

“Junhwe,” the creature says.  
“Who—what are you?” Junhwe asks calmly (to his surprise). “Where is Jinhwan?”  
“I _am_ Jinhwan.”

Junhwe stands abruptly, turns on his heel, and starts speed walking back to the cottage. Nope. He isn’t about to do this. He’s got to be hallucinating.

“Junhwe, wait!”

Junhwe slows down in spite of himself because the creature might not look much like the Jinhwan that Junhwe knows, but it sure does sound like him. Junhwe feels a cold hand grab his arm, and he almost screams out loud because Jinhwan’s skin feels strange and leathery. But instead he turns around calmly (again, surprising himself) and considers Jinhwan with a frown.

“Junhwe, please, it’s me.”

Jinhwan has an iron grip on Junhwe’s wrists, and Junhwe eyes his claws warily. Jinhwan looks up at Junhwe with desperation in his eyes, and Junhwe recognizes that expression. He frowns and pushes the thought from his mind. No, it can’t be Jinhwan. He squints. “Tell me something only the real Jinhwan would know.” Jinhwan’s mouth opens a little in surprise, and he tilts his head thoughtfully. Then a crooked smirk spreads across his face. “You had to sleep with a light on till you were sixteen because you were so afraid of the dark.” Junhwe makes an indignant noise, and Jinhwan laughs. There is a wry smile on his face—that characteristic grin that Junhwe had grown to cherish over the past year. It _is_ Jinhwan. Junhwe pulls his hands from Jinhwan’s grasp and reaches out to touch Jinhwan’s face. It’s all so strange.

“I don’t understand,” Junhwe says finally.  
“C’mon,” Jinhwan says. “Let’s go home where it’s warm, and I’ll tell you everything.”

They walk back to the cottage together. Once inside, Junhwe sits at the table while Jinhwan pulls one of the bottles of seawater from the refrigerator. He fills the cup Junhwe had given him and drains it in three gulps. He heaves a satisfied sigh and joins Junhwe at the table. He looks at Jiwon on the counter and Hanbin on the shelf, says to them that he’s doing it, and then faces Junhwe. “I’m a—I guess humans would call me a water spirit or an ocean spirit.” Ocean spirits, according to Jinhwan, are the most powerful subset of water spirits, and they live in the depths of the sea, in a place called the Deep where they care for the ocean and all its plants and animals. They can manipulate seawater to make pretty much anything, and they can make themselves appear human. “Or like cats,” Jinhwan adds, his mouth twisting into a wry grin as he nods toward Jiwon and Hanbin. Junhwe blinks. Oh no. Oh no no no. Both cats slink over from where they had been watching the conversation and then jump onto the table. They crouch down in front of Junhwe. “Pleased to formally make your acquaintance,” they say in unison, and Junhwe is surprised he doesn’t faint.

Jinhwan chuckles and pats his cats’ butts. “They’re my advisors.” Junhwe nods because he doesn’t know what else to do. “Advisors,” he repeats. “I see.” With an embarrassed shrug Jinhwan says that he is the youngest child of the King of the Deep. Of course he is. Of course Jinhwan is an ocean spirit and a prince with talking cats that give him advice. Of course. Junhwe is losing his damn mind. Jinhwan seems nervous, terrified almost, and Junhwe bites his lip. This is bizarre—no doubt about it—but maybe he should try to accept it. “Sire, why not give him the gift?” Jiwon says lazily. Jinhwan’s eyes widen, his mouth a little ‘O,’ and he hops off his chair and hurries to his room. He returns seconds later, hiding something in his hands. He leans against the table next to Junhwe and holds his hands out. Slowly he lifts his right hand off of his left, and Junhwe’s breath actually catches at what he sees: It’s a glass rose, pale pink, its petals as thin as the real thing. He peers closer and he can even see the veins in the flower petals, their soft curves, and it almost looks real. “It’s a beach rose,” Jinhwan says as he places the flower delicately into Junhwe’s outstretched palms. As soon as the cool glass touches his skin, Junhwe’s body starts tingling and his heart clenches. “Why?” Junhwe asks weakly. Jinhwan looks ashamed and guilty, and Junhwe frowns.

Jinhwan still appears decidedly alien, but over the course of their conversation, he’d begun to look more and more human. His ears and teeth are no longer pointed, the black in his eyes has receded almost entirely back into his pupils, and the webbing has disappeared from between his fingers and toes, which have also shrunk back to their normal length. His claws are gone too, though his nails are still black, almost as if he’d coated them in dark nail polish. Color is returning to his skin, and the tattoos are fading. The ocean spirit is leaving, and Jinhwan is returning. Junhwe is almost willing to believe that he’s having the strangest, most realistic dream of his life, and that when he wakes up tomorrow, he can tell Jinhwan that Jinhwan had fucked him so hard that he’d had delusions that Jinhwan’s cats could talk and that Jinhwan had been a water fairy. But then Jinhwan caresses Junhwe’s face, in his soft, intimate way, and on his own face is the troubled expression he’d had all day. Junhwe wets his lips.

“What is it?”  
“Junhwe, I have to return to the Deep. I was given ten years in the human world, and my time is up.”

Junhwe feels faint. It is only fear of dropping the glass rose that keeps him from collapsing. If he thinks about it, it makes some sort of sense. Jinhwan had spent so long rejecting Junhwe’s advances, keeping them in the realm of kissing and cuddling, because if he’d taken it any further, he’d have had to deal with the repercussions of deepening their relationship with this timeline hanging over his head. Of course, if he’d had a deadline all along, he’d had no business kissing Junhwe all those months ago in the first place. Or perhaps he hadn’t been able to control himself—so in love that he is—and then this time, his imminent departure had been so overwhelming that he’d given in last night. Or maybe Junhwe is just overthinking it. But no matter what Jinhwan had felt and is feeling, Junhwe knows how _he_ feels. He’d given his whole heart and soul to Jinhwan, but he had never thought that Jinhwan would disappear. Even if Junhwe had had to return to the city alone, it’s not like Jinhwan would have been gone forever. Junhwe could still visit. He’d even give Jinhwan a smartphone so they could call and text and video chat. That had been Junhwe’s plan, anyway. But now… Now his whole world is splitting apart at the seams.

He sets the rose carefully down on the table and pulls Jinhwan into his lap. Jinhwan’s arms curl automatically around Junhwe’s neck. “How soon?” Jinhwan averts his eyes. “Very soon,” he mutters. Junhwe feels weak all over again. How can he properly say goodbye? He gazes at Jinhwan helplessly. “I know,” Jinhwan whispers, and he kisses Junhwe softly. “I know.” They stay like this for a while until Jinhwan slides from Junhwe’s lap and pulls him to the bed. They lie there in a tangle, and Junhwe cries silently into Jinhwan’s neck. How can Junhwe live without being able to touch Jinhwan’s soft skin, to feel uplifted by his crooked smile, to breathe in his familiar scent of ocean spray and roses? Junhwe feels one of the cats curl up against his back, and it purrs, strong and deep. It’s comforting, somehow, and eventually Junhwe drifts off into an uneasy sleep…

He’s on the beach of his dreams, while the sun is setting and the moon is rising, in the shadow of the cliff. The cool sea breeze is blowing around him, and for the first time Junhwe notices roses abloom in the dunes. Jinhwan hands one to Junhwe, a wry grin on his face, and then he turns and walks into the sea.

_A pink rose of glass you offer in parting_  
_Though it feels as though we are only just starting._  
_Separated from you I cannot bear to be_  
_Because with you my heart is finally free._

Junhwe wants to run after Jinhwan, but his feet won’t listen. The rose slips from Junhwe’s fingers just as Jinhwan’s head disappears beneath the waves. Though the rose had been real only a moment ago, when it hits the ground, it shatters into a million pieces, and with it shatters Junhwe’s heart. He drops to his knees.

_“Jinhwan!”_

His voice comes out as a shout and his eyes snap open. He’s all alone in Jinhwan’s bed. Jinhwan is gone. He’d left, and he hadn’t even woken Junhwe up to say goodbye, to kiss him one last time, to let Junhwe convince him to stay. 

_A pink rose of glass you offer in parting_  
_Though it feels as though we are only just starting._  
_Separated from you I cannot bear to be_  
_Because with you my heart is finally free._  
_Just look into my eyes to know that it’s true_  
_Because if ever I’m to love, I want to live life loving you._

Junhwe buries his face into Jinhwan’s pillow and sobs.


	4. Vive ut vivas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It was my destiny to love and say goodbye.”  
>  \- Pablo Neruda, Still Another Day: XV_
> 
> Live so that you may live.

Jinhwan carefully untangles himself from Junhwe and slips from the bed. He quickly wraps the cup Junhwe had made and the large teardrop he’d made and puts them in his pack. He sets his pack on one of the chairs at the table and scrawls a note: _I did love you, and I’m sorry. Goodbye._ He frowns at the note for a moment and then slips it under the glass rose, which he positions in the middle of the table. Then he walks back to his bed. Junhwe is fast asleep, dried tear streaks lining his cheeks, his mouth slightly parted. Jinhwan threads his fingers through Junhwe’s soft hair, and then he lets a finger trail down Junhwe’s cheek. Junhwe shifts slightly but doesn’t wake, and from around the shelf Hanbin meows. “Sire.” It’s time to go, but Jinhwan doesn’t move; the screams of protest in his soul are too strong—how can he ignore them? How can he leave? “Sire,” Hanbin says again. With a heavy heart Jinhwan drags himself from Junhwe’s side, grabs his pack, and leaves the cottage. 

He hurries down the beach toward the water, his cats loping silently after him. The sun is already rising; he has to hurry. He wades into the water and the cats follow. Jinhwan swirls the water around each cat, the water glows briefly, and then—both cats have transformed into their own ocean spirit forms. The only difference between them and Jinhwan is that Hanbin has pure white skin with black tattoos, and Jiwon is jet black with white tattoos. Both of them stretch and examine themselves, and Hanbin throws himself onto Jiwon. “At last, a feline no longer!” he exclaims, and Jiwon tries to shove him off. Hanbin kisses Jiwon’s cheek and then gazes at Jinhwan affectionately. “Sire, would it trouble you terribly if I were to embrace you?” Jinhwan snorts and shakes his head. Hanbin grins wildly and then tackles Jinhwan to the ground and showers him with kisses. Jiwon pulls them apart, reminding them that they’ll be late meeting the Guard, but even he lets his hand linger on Jinhwan’s arm. Jinhwan doesn’t fault them, though; he thinks he would long for the touch of another if he’d spent ten years as a cat.

Hanbin snatches Jinhwan’s pack (“His Majesty cannot be expected to carry such things!”), and then the three of them dive into the water. They swim for about an hour to the agreed upon meeting place, and Jinhwan is disappointed to see members of the Guard waiting for him with an aquajet. They bow to Jinhwan and let him into the jet, but they say nothing. Jinhwan had expected some secretary in the Court to have arranged for the Guard to meet him, but he’d still hoped beyond hope that the records hadn’t been updated, or someone had been sloppy, or something had happened that would have prevented the Guard from coming. If they hadn’t come, if no one had remembered, then maybe Jinhwan could have turned around and gone back to Junhwe’s warm embrace. He shifts in his seat and sniffles, trying to regain his composure because if he meets his father like this… well, it wouldn’t be good.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”  
Hanbin is leaning forward from his seat behind Jinhwan, his chin resting on the back of Jinhwan’s chair. His tone is soft and filled with concern. Jinhwan shuts his eyes.  
“Maybe.”

The aquajet reaches the Deep in an hour, and then it shoots through the metropolis to the palace. They pull up to the courtyard, and the members of the Guard escort Jinhwan as far as the door, bow, and then leave. Jinhwan gazes up at the door and heaves a resigned sigh. He can’t run away. Jiwon squeezes Jinhwan’s shoulder, and Jinhwan pushes the doors open and steps inside. He goes first to the office of the Royal Secretariat to ask where his father is, and he is, apparently, in the dining hall. Jiwon and Hanbin are not allowed to be in the presence of the King unless specifically invited, so Jinhwan dismisses them to their chambers. They can probably find something to do considering they’ve spent ten years away from their more tedious duties. He makes his way slowly through the palace, and he’s almost glad that no one pays him any attention. Gives him more time to brood. He’s also quite relieved that he doesn’t run into any of his siblings or cousins because etiquette would dictate that he speak with them, and the last thing Jinhwan wants to do is talk about his time abovewater.

Eventually he reaches the dining hall, and after taking a moment to collect himself, he goes in. His father is sitting at the head of the table with an entire cooked swordfish in front of him. Well, there isn’t much swordfish left; Jinhwan supposes there had been some big meeting that had concluded recently. The only people left in the dining hall are his father and a few members of the Court. When he notices Jinhwan, his father waves the Court members away and beckons for Jinhwan to sit beside him. “Venerable King of the Deep, I have returned,” Jinhwan says stiffly as he bows. His father looks him up and down then slices off a hunk of the remaining swordfish meat, flings it onto a plate, and slams the plate down in front of Jinhwan. The sight of it makes Jinhwan queasy; he’s too nervous to eat, but he has no choice. He nibbles on the food while his father talks at him—they managed to save this or that species of coral from the humans in such and such sector of the ocean, one of Jinhwan’s brothers had married, the Queen Rising had had her third child… Jinhwan is only barely listening. Nothing has changed.

“Suah, bring me the—ah, of course you had prepared it, thank you. Here,” the king says as he slides a medi-moni over to Jinhwan. Jinhwan picks it up. “We refused requests for potential mates until a few years ago. There are actually some rather decent choices in there, or so your mother told me. I was a little surprised, but then, there are many families that wish to be promoted to the Royal Court from the Lesser Courts. We expect a choice within three moon cycles, but we are willing to wait a full rotation.”

And with that, the king stands (Jinhwan, of course, rises as well) and sweeps regally from the room. He had not asked Jinhwan one question about his time in the human world, nor had he given Jinhwan a chance to comment on any of the goings-on that he had missed. Jinhwan looks down at the swordfish he had barely touched. He feels empty. Three of the kitchen staff had since appeared and are now starting to clean up, so Jinhwan calls one of them over. “Have this plate and two more plates sent to my chambers.” The staff member murmurs his assent and begins to set aside three plates. Jinhwan watches him for a moment, then he takes the medi-moni and slips from the dining hall. He manages not to run into any family members on the way to his room, and when he walks in, he’s hit by a wave of nostalgia. It’s remained untouched for the last decade; the only difference is the clean set of robes laid out on his bed. They feel good and cool against his skin when he puts them on. He’s missed this too, but he feels a pang of sadness when he looks at his human clothes in a heap on the floor. Only a few hours ago Junhwe had thrown them into a similar pile after taking them off of Jinhwan so lovingly, so tenderly... Jinhwan squeezes his eyes shut and wraps his arms around himself; he longs for Junhwe’s warmth. Then with a sigh he takes his mini-moni off of his desk and fires it up. There’s a message from Hanbin ( _Civilization!_ ) and one from Jiwon ( _Would His Majesty care to join Hanbin and myself for a swim this evening?_ ). Jinhwan tells them to come to his chambers at moonrise for some swordfish he’d managed to procure for them, and then he drops his mini-moni back where he’d found it, grabs the medi-moni his father had given him, and flops down on his bed. He might as well look through his potential partners.

Jinhwan entertains quite a large number of the women his mother had chosen for him, but none of them excite him. Hanbin suggests it’s because Jinhwan has always preferred the company of men, so he has Jiwon run the medi-moni to his mother’s secretary so that she can add some men to the mix. A few days later the medi-moni returns with files on potential male partners, and Jinhwan entertains them too. But the women, the men, all of them offer him the usual platitudes, which he dutifully returns, and then he dismisses them. They’re all nice, he thinks, and some he might have even seriously considered a year ago, but now his interactions with them feel cheap. Hollow. None of them care about him, or even want to care about him, because the only thing they care about is having their names added to the Royal Record. Jinhwan knows he isn’t an ideal match, but he isn’t the worst match either, so in all of the applicants he sees the desperation of their families for even the tiniest sliver of glory that a marriage to him would bring them. But again, they don’t care about him; they care only about his title.

He gazes longingly at the little glass cup on his desk, and his heart aches for Junhwe. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that Jinhwan’s soul had found its match in Junhwe only for it to be betrayed by time and circumstance, duty and tradition. Jinhwan cannot go to the King with nothing but his heart and his cup; the King would only crush both into dust. Jinhwan throws himself into his bed. He is trapped. His duty won’t let him leave, but his heart won’t allow him to stay. His soul is being torn in two. He reaches out and takes the cup, and the tips of his fingers start to tingle. He can feel Junhwe’s love for him. All those months ago he had felt the same jolt in his soul, and it had whispered to him that this is the one, this is why Jinhwan had felt so connected. He closes his eyes and holds the cup to his chest, and from it radiates warmth and comfort, and Jinhwan shakes with silent sobs. He can’t live like this. If only he could—his eyes snap open. 

_His sister._

He scrambles from his bed and calls Jiwon and Hanbin to his room. “Contact the Royal Secretariat and request an audience with the Queen Rising.” The two of them leave without a word, and Jinhwan sits at his desk. He puts down the cup and picks up the large teardrop. The force of the emotions in his own soul is so strong that his breath catches, and he swallows hard. His sister would be more likely to see him without cause, and in matters of the soul she has always been open to compromise. If anyone could help him get back to Junhwe, it would be her. In his grief, Jinhwan had not been able to see a solution, but now he almost dares to hope. He sleeps well that night for the first time in weeks.

His happiness, however, is short-lived. Every day he asks Hanbin and Jiwon if he has been granted an audience with his sister, and every day he is told no. Requests do take time to process and go through the necessary channels, but Jinhwan sends a new request every day. He _will_ be seen and heard. He even drafts some personal communications to be sent through the Royal Family Network in the hopes that his sister will see them, but he remains ignored. He starts feeling as hopeless and helpless as he had when he’d first come back home, and he spends most of his days now shut up in his room. If he closes his eyes and lets his mind relax, he can almost see Junhwe sometimes—almost hear his voice, almost touch him. But Jinhwan never can.

Finally, Jiwon and Hanbin barge into his room one morning. Jinhwan had been moved to a private suite in the residential quarters of the palace, and it includes an adjoining room for members of his staff. It’s nice having Jiwon and Hanbin so close because they make Jinhwan feel less lonely, but today they seem concerned, and Jinhwan frowns at them. Jiwon and Hanbin share a glance. “We heard you calling his name last night,” Hanbin says nervously. Jinhwan flushes and avoids their eyes. Jiwon kneels before him and takes his hands. “Your Highness,” he says gently, “you must let him go.” Jinhwan stands abruptly, and he has half a mind to dismiss them, but instead he lets his anger wash off of him. Jiwon and Hanbin flinch—they can feel Jinhwan’s power—but they don’t move. Finally, Jiwon sighs and stands up. He puts a hand on Jinhwan’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze, and Jinhwan finds himself wishing he could hold Jiwon the cat, feel his soft fur and let his purring calm Jinhwan’s anxious heart.

“Let’s go to the school,” Jiwon says in a soothing voice. “You must leave this room at some point, Majesty, and I know you haven’t been waterweaving.”

Jinhwan has had no real desire to waterweave, but he decides he might as well humor Jiwon and Hanbin because he hasn’t left his room in days. He lets them escort him to the school. They wander the halls until they wind up eventually in the practice room. He could practice in the private halls in the palace, but there’s something about the practice room in the school that just feels right. Jiwon and Hanbin bring Jinhwan a tub of water, and then they move off to a different area of the room to practice dancing. Jinhwan sits on the floor beside his tub, closes his eyes, and weaves the seawater into whatever patterns come to mind. When he’s used up all the water, he opens his eyes to survey his work. Two cats (perfect replicas of Jiwon and Hanbin), some dunes with a rosebush of beach roses, and a series of geometric patterns. He sighs. Not his best. With a wave of his hand all of the sculptures collapse back into seawater, and with another wave of his hand the water jumps back into the tub. He’s just uninspired. His last great work had been his sculpture of the night sky for the Festival of the Stars, but that had been when… Something in Jinhwan’s chest throbs, and he squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t do this now.

Jinhwan retrieves Hanbin and Jiwon, and together they walk back to the suite. Jinhwan pauses outside the door, and Hanbin nudges him. “I’m fine,” Jinhwan says shortly, and he pushes the door open. What he sees, however, makes his jaw drop: His oldest sister is sitting at his desk. Hanbin and Jiwon immediately prostrate themselves before her, still as statues, while Jinhwan inclines his head. The Queen Rising stands and glides over to Jinhwan. She takes both of his hands, and he looks up. She’s smiling. Jinhwan likes her well enough, but she terrifies him. She is the most powerful magic user in the royal family, and though she is just, she is also ruthless. Jinhwan knows the storms she has conjured, the raging seas she has calmed. He has seen the cities she has woven out of seawater all on her own. Jinhwan wonders why she had come in person and by herself. Probably to reprimand him. He frowns at her hands. 

“My Secretariat finally let slip that you have been bombarding his office with requests to meet with me,” his sister says in her smooth voice. “You must understand that you are not a priority and that being as insufferable as a human will get you nowhere.”

Jinhwan is not particularly shocked by her admonishment, but it still hurts. She lets go of him and sits on the bed, staring him down. He wets his lips. Should he start off by telling her the truth? That he’d left his heart on a faraway beach in the calloused hands of a human? That his very soul is diminishing? He looks at his feet.

“I can’t marry,” he mutters finally. At this his sister’s eyes narrow.  
“It was agreed.”  
“Yes, but we must come to another agreement. That’s why I’ve been trying to talk to you.”  
The future queen hums thoughtfully. “Go on.”  
“It’s because there’s someone else.”  
“It is as I feared when I saw you had yet to choose,” she says with a sigh. “One of ours?”  
“No.”  
“Even worse.”

This is not going well. Desperate, Jinhwan snatches the cup from the desk and holds it out to her. She considers it for a long moment, dubious, and Jinhwan is almost afraid she won’t take it. She does take it eventually, but her expression clouds as soon as she touches it. She asks Jinhwan if he had made it, and he shakes his head. She runs her fingers over it, frowning thoughtfully. “He truly cared for you, this human.” She stands, replaces the cup, and then takes the teardrop sculpture. Her expression is one of surprise as she turns it over in her hands, and she considers Jinhwan for a long moment. “I see his ardor for you is matched.” She sets the teardrop delicately down on the desk. Can Jinhwan dare hope that someone in such a position of power can fight for him? Had she been able to read the signs, and will she take them to heart? The Queen Rising tells Hanbin and Jiwon they can stand (they scramble wordlessly to their feet but keep their heads bowed), and then with a wave of her hand, she beckons for Jinhwan to follow her.

“Come,” she says as she sweeps from the room, “it will not be I who will deny the soul its desires, so let us see if we cannot negotiate a new compromise.”


	5. Noster nostri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _“In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.”  
>  \- Maya Angelou_
> 
> Our hearts beat as one.

Junhwe is back on the mainland less than twenty-four hours after Jinhwan had vanished into the ocean. He throws himself into his work so that he doesn’t have to feel lonely: He spends fifteen hours at the studio every day and then passes out at home. He’s so exhausted that his sleep is (thankfully) dreamless, and his work requires most of his mental attention, so he seldom thinks of Jinhwan. It’s only when he listens to his completed songs that he gets emotional because every song reminds him of the island. He has twelve songs now, and all of them are about the ocean or Jinhwan or both, and for Junhwe, it is the most personal and revealing album he has ever made. Honestly, Junhwe is worried about the response it will receive because so much of it is tied to his emotions and experiences. But his producers like it, and Donghyuk likes it, and Junhwe likes it too. He just wishes he could know whether Jinhwan likes it.

But Junhwe has only been thinking about Jinhwan a lot for the past week because his album is about to be released, so he has nothing left to do. His music video had been filmed, and he’d barely featured—a first for him—and aside from a few interviews here and there, he has nothing. As soon as his album drops, he knows he’ll be so busy that he’ll barely be able to catch his breath, but for now… Junhwe eases himself onto his bed with a small sigh and gazes at the glass rose sculpture. It’s glittering innocently in the moonlight as if it doesn’t make Junhwe remember the best and worst year of his life. He picks up the scrap of paper behind it with the last song he’d written scrawled on it. He reads through it once, twice, and then with an angry grunt he throws it back on it his nightstand. He doesn’t make it, however, and the little piece of paper flutters to the ground, where it lands in a crumpled heap. That’s how Junhwe feels: Crushed, discarded like trash.

But then Junhwe’s album, _Aria Maris,_ his aria of the sea, is released to critical acclaim, and he’s vaulted to stardom again so fast it’s as if the past two years had never happened. He gets even more public recognition than he had before, and if this had happened two years ago, he thinks he would have been ecstatic. But now the fame just makes him feel emptier. The reviews too—though positive—strike Junhwe to his very core. _Haunting,_ they say. _Emotive and deeply personal. A story in twelve songs about a passionate love affair that is beautiful at times but doomed to failure._ Doomed to failure. Junhwe reads on and on, and it feels like his heart is caught in someone’s fist and is being suffocated. Crushed to death. Donghyuk pats his back. “You’re good, bro.” Junhwe forces a smile.

The searing pain peters out to a dull ache the longer Junhwe promotes, but he still feels cold and empty. At the end of the year, he wins the Song, Album, and Artist of the Year awards—the first person to sweep the awards in over a decade. Junhwe is happy about it, sometimes, but he often wonders how his pain can be so appealing to other people. He thinks, though, that humans love hearing about the problems of others because it reminds them that they don’t have it so bad. _The man was foolish enough to fall in love with the ocean but couldn’t tame it, and so it was lost, but_ I _would never be so unwise._ Or maybe hearing Junhwe croon his heart and soul into their ears reminds them that they’re still alive, that they aren’t the only ones struggling and hurting, or loving and dreaming. To live is to feel, and to feel is to live. Their empathy—or their pity—proves their humanity.

Or maybe Junhwe is just overthinking things.

He drops onto the couch in his dressing room. Donghyuk glances at him but says nothing, and with much dramatic grunting, Junhwe stretches out on the couch with his head in Donghyuk’s lap and his feet dangling over the couch’s arm. Donghyuk pats Junhwe’s head and then punches his shoulder. “Ready?” Yeah, Junhwe’s as ready as he’s ever going to be. It’s the biggest music award show in the country; he can’t be anything _but_ ready. He’s singing his title song, of course, the eponymous “Aria Maris,” but he’s also going to sing that last song… It’s his story, the climax of his opera, so it’s the most personal of all the songs. It’s also the most experimental song on his album. He’s read good things about it online, but he still isn’t sure how it will be received live. Donghyuk walks with Junhwe backstage and waits with him until his cue. Junhwe sings his title song, and then he sits on a chair and picks up his guitar. He waits until the venue is as quiet as it’s going to get. “Tonight I’m going to sing “Song of the Sea” live for the first time for you guys,” Junhwe says, and the crowd screams. He strums on his guitar, and the backtrack starts to play, and Junhwe drifts away…

He’s on the cliff, and the flowers are still tickling his ankles. He shades his eyes against the midmorning sun and looks down. There’s a figure crouching by the waves, and Junhwe smiles without realizing it. He leaps from the cliff and floats gently down, and then he hurries toward the figure. It’s Jinhwan—of course it’s Jinhwan—and he hands Junhwe one of his bottles of seawater, but it’s empty save for a single beach rose. As soon as Junhwe takes the bottle, Jinhwan transforms before his eyes into an ocean spirit, and with a wry smile he walks straight into the sea, straight on to the horizon line until his head disappears beneath the swells. All Junhwe is left with is a dying rose and the scent of the ocean spray…

_As the tide rolls in and rolls out with the push and the pull of the moon,_  
_I realize what I have been missing, what I have been dreaming, what I have been…_  
_It is you, it has always been you, you who have stood on the edge of the earth,_  
_the apex of the apex of the sea, and leapt down to the deepest darkest depths of my heart._  
_In time I came to love you—love you as the sun loves the sky, as the waves love the shore,_  
_so for a moment we were happy, but how long does love last when by nature it is_  
_ephemeral? The only constant in my life has been the salt of the sea and my tears,_  
_and you wipe them away, but nothing can be done because you must go and I must stay,_  
_so my soul seeps into your skin for you to carry off as you disappear beyond the horizon line._

Junhwe’s voice fades as he sings the last note. The crowd claps, a standing ovation, but all Junhwe wants to do is lie down and cry. He feels spent, like the last vestiges of his feelings for Jinhwan had been expelled from his body. But he stands, and he bows, and he smiles like he’s supposed to. He accepts his awards with the same grace, makes his speeches, gives his thanks, and at the end of this long night, he collapses into bed. But Donghyuk shakes him awake—he’s still wearing makeup and his hair is crusted over with hairspray and gel—and drags him into the bathroom to shower. With Donghyuk’s help, Junhwe gets all his makeup off, and then Junhwe shoos Donghyuk from the bathroom so he can undress. Junhwe washes and then sits in the shower, letting the steaming hot water rain down on him. He doesn’t know how much time passes before Donghyuk comes in to turn off the water. He’s pulled gently to his feet and wrapped up in a warm fluffy towel, and then Donghyuk guides him back to his bedroom. He’s talking, but Junhwe is only vaguely aware of what he’s saying (something about how Junhwe ruined his pillowcase with his makeup). He walks back over from Junhwe’s dresser with clean underwear and a clean shirt. He tries to hand them to Junhwe, but Junhwe doesn’t move, so with a sigh he sets them down on the bed. He smooths out Junhwe’s hair a little. “You did well today.” He turns to go, but Junhwe grabs his arm. “Book me a flight to the island as soon as possible.” Donghyuk seems surprised for a moment, but then he nods. He pries Junhwe’s fingers from his wrist, tells Junhwe to get some sleep, and then leaves the room. Junhwe pulls on the clothes Donghyuk had left for him and snuggles up under his blankets. He wants to cry, but he has no tears left.

***

Junhwe arrives on the island the following summer. He’d had a domestic tour that he of course couldn’t cancel, so Donghyuk had arranged for him to spend his time off in between the domestic and international legs of his tour on the island. Every auntie in the village is waiting for him at the B&B, and all of them scold him for not telling them that he’s so famous. His successes had even reached the island, it seems, though Junhwe is inclined to believe the signed albums he’d sent have something to do with his popularity here. Still, though, he finds he appreciates their opinions more than he’d thought; he’s sure they’d have told him bluntly if they’d hated the album, at any rate.

He treks down to Jinhwan’s cottage the next morning. The place is completely empty—no patio furniture, no glass sculptures on the window sills, no big curtain, no cat tree, no bed… Junhwe opens a cupboard, but nothing is there. He sighs and walks out back to the studio. It’s empty too—both workbenches are gone, the generator is gone… Junhwe runs a finger along the door to the kiln; it’s covered in dust. He goes out the back door and is surprised to find Jinhwan’s crate of seawater bottles. Jinhwan had had seven, and there are three left, two of which are full. Junhwe picks up the empty one and realizes for the first time that Jinhwan had probably made these. “Right,” he says aloud, and then he stands and heads back to the B&B with the empty bottle. He places it on the nightstand beside the rose and the teardrop, and with a frown he considers all three. Why had Junhwe come here? What is he looking for?

Junhwe spends a few days hiking as far as the hill to sit on his old rock. He spends hours there, and today he’s been so long that Donghyuk had come to find him. “I didn’t know you missed him this much,” Donghyuk says. “Me either,” Junhwe responds after a long time. The old ache had returned, a heavy weight in his chest. Without the chaos of his life, Junhwe is left alone with his unpleasant thoughts. He feels like he had a year and a half ago, and he hates it. How could he have gotten so much better only to have everything come crashing down around him again? Then he’d been so busy that he could almost forget, but… He lies down on his bed, staring down the glass sculptures. He should go back home tomorrow. It was stupid for him to have come here.

When Junhwe wakes up the next morning, he feels light and warm. He presses his hand to his forehead with a frown. He hasn’t felt like this in months. He rolls from his bed and dresses quickly, and with Jinhwan’s empty bottle in one hand, he hurries down to the beach. Things are different today; Junhwe can feel it in the air. When Junhwe gets to his hill and looks down at the shore, his heart stops—sitting just out of the reach of the tides is a person. Junhwe stands still for a moment, not even daring to breathe, before he breaks out into a run. The figure stands and turns and—“Jinhwan!” Junhwe shouts. It’s him. “Jinhwan,” Junhwe says again as he slows down. Jinhwan takes several steps toward him and smiles his wry smile, and for a moment Junhwe feels at ease. But then the full force of his feelings of abandonment slam into him, and his hands curl into fists.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t punch you right now.”

Junhwe is shaking with anger, and Jinhwan looks ashamed.

He doesn’t have any good reasons, but would Junhwe mind walking to the cottage with him and hearing his excuses? Junhwe wants to say no—that he’d had enough when Jinhwan had walked out on him, left him an absurd note, disappeared for a year and half. But Jinhwan is gazing up at Junhwe with the same old desperation, and Junhwe deflates. He’s still in love, and he can at least hear the guy out. Before they go, though, Jinhwan takes the empty bottle from Junhwe, and with a flick of his wrist, and thin stream of seawater flows into it. Junhwe wishes he were shocked, but he’s spent over a year rationalizing Jinhwan the ocean spirit with Jinhwan the human; this is just how things are going to be. They walk together to the cottage and sit side by side on the porch steps, and Junhwe waits for Jinhwan to speak, but Jinhwan says nothing. Junhwe makes a frustrated noise.

“You left me all alone. You left me, and you didn’t say anything.”  
Jinhwan stares at his feet. “I didn’t know how to say goodbye, and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to come back.”  
“Why not?” Junhwe demands, indignant.  
“You’re a human,” Jinhwan says slowly, “and that complicates things.”  
“Oh,” is all Junhwe can say. Jinhwan buries a toe in the sand.  
“I had negotiated for my time abovewater, so I had obligations to the King and nothing left to bargain with on top of that. And I’m not important enough for him to listen to me if I have nothing, so with that and my debts, I thought…”  
“You thought you couldn’t come back,” Junhwe finishes.

Jinhwan looks up, and the two of them face each other. Junhwe is still pretty upset that Jinhwan had left him like that—that Jinhwan had even started them down this path in the first place if he’d known he wouldn’t be able to stay with Junhwe—but… Junhwe thinks he understands. Jinhwan had been backed into a corner, and he hadn’t known how to reconcile his feelings with the reality of his situation. He had been caught between two worlds with no identifiable way out; Junhwe certainly knows what that feels like. It must be hard to be a prince. Or an ocean spirit. Or an ocean spirit prince. Junhwe chews his lip.

“Well, then how did you manage to come back?”  
At this, Jinhwan smiles, and his eyes crinkle. “In the Deep, we believe in soulmates,” he says. “We can feel the soul in nature, and in things, and someone very powerful was able to read my soul and yours.”  
Junhwe blinks. “My soul? How?”  
“I brought the cup you made back with me, and I had something that I made while thinking of you.”  
“Oh,” Junhwe mutters, his cheeks reddening. So Jinhwan had kept the stupid cup.  
“We’ve always been connected,” Jinhwan says softly as he places a hand over his heart. He reaches out and taps Junhwe’s chest with two fingers. “And I know you must have felt it too.”

Jinhwan has always made Junhwe feel _something_ —from the first time Junhwe had seen him down on the beach filling his bottles with seawater. From that very moment, before Junhwe had even known Jinhwan’s name, Jinhwan had occupied some space in Junhwe’s heart; he’d dug his way in and settled there, carving out a place all his own. From his crooked smile to his deft fingers to his lilting laughter—everything about him had been captivating to Junhwe. “I felt it today,” Junhwe half-whispers, and Jinhwan smiles. It’s that soft, private smile that Junhwe had only seen the night that Jinhwan had left, when he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable and let down all the barriers he’d built around himself as a result of being a prince, a celebrity, and an alien in an unfamiliar world. Junhwe thinks suddenly that they are quite similar—both of them had been smothered and damaged, and so in each other they had found solace and comfort. Junhwe brushes Jinhwan’s hair from his eyes and then looks away in embarrassment. Jinhwan leans back into his view.

“I’d very much like to kiss you right now,” he says.  
“Would you,” Junhwe responds dryly.  
“Yes,” Jinhwan says, grinning. “May I?”  
Junhwe snorts. “Yes, Your Highness, you may.”

Jinhwan bursts out laughing. Junhwe doesn’t have to call him that, he says, and Junhwe smiles in spite of himself. Jinhwan inches closer, cups Junhwe’s face in both hands, leans in and—is overcome by the giggles. Junhwe glares at him. “What?” he whines, but Jinhwan is still shaking with suppressed laughter, his arms around Junhwe’s neck and his forehead pressed against Junhwe’s shoulder. Junhwe curls his arms around Jinhwan’s waist and pulls him closer, grumbling. “Why are you laughing?” Jinhwan sits up a little and chokes out, “ _Your Highness._ ” He’s still snickering, one hand covering his mouth, and Junhwe scowls. He yanks Jinhwan’s hand from his face and kisses Jinhwan himself, and Jinhwan stiffens in surprise for a moment before he relaxes and lets Junhwe make out with him. He pulls away when Junhwe tries to slip a hand under his shirt, and Junhwe frowns in disappointment.

Jinhwan pays him no mind, however, and picks up the bottle of seawater. “I want to show you something.” He pops it open, sets it down in front of him, and with a wave of his finger the water streams from the bottle. A small ball of water is floating above Jinhwan’s cupped palms. “Put your hands like mine, above them.” Junhwe does as he’s told, and little tendrils of water snake down to wrap around his wrists. His whole body is tingling. The water begins to glow, and what’s left of the ball begins to transform rapidly before Junhwe’s eyes: First into a crashing wave, and then into a delicate beach rose. The rose sinks down to rest in Junhwe’s hands, and he can feel Jinhwan’s hands press up into his, and his heart feels as though it might burst. The water around their wrists recedes back into the rose, which melts away, the cool water washing over Junhwe’s hands. Junhwe feels oddly cleansed, and he’s hyperaware of his own heartbeat, and of Jinhwan’s, and it feels as though something is passing between them. Junhwe folds his hands over Jinhwan’s, and he’s surprised to feel that they’re warm for once. “That’s because of your soul, you know.” Junhwe squints at Jinhwan, who offers a wry grin. “We’re connected.” Junhwe’s hands are still tingling as the warmth leaves Jinhwan, and he frowns. Soulmates?

“Where are your cats?” Junhwe asks after a while in a tired voice.  
“They’re still in the Deep,” Jinhwan says. “I’ll go get them if…”  
“If I want you to stay?”  
Jinhwan looks away. “Yeah.”  
“Will you only have ten years again?”  
“No,” Jinhwan says quickly. “I can stay indefinitely, but I do have to go back sometimes. For some things.”

He’d been made some sort of advisor to the future queen, apparently, so he needs to participate in major functions and report back to her every so often. Jinhwan then goes on to explain how he’d spent ages trying to get her to hear him out, and then the two of them had spent ages trying to convince their father of this new plan. Junhwe nods once. Right. He isn’t angry with Jinhwan anymore. Jinhwan had done what he could, and he _had_ managed to find his way back to Junhwe. Besides, even if Jinhwan has to leave sometimes, it isn’t all the time, and Junhwe will have to go off and do things on his own too. Jinhwan can’t be expected to accompany him on his international tour, for example, and if they truly are connected, then it wouldn’t matter. Perhaps what had hurt the most the past year and a half had been the uncertainty. Where had Jinhwan gone? Would Junhwe ever see him again? Had Jinhwan truly loved him? But if Junhwe knows that Jinhwan will be there, that he’ll come back from wherever he goes, that he’ll be waiting for Junhwe’s return from wherever he’s gone… Junhwe supposes this is doable. Jinhwan is an ocean spirit, and Junhwe isn’t, and they have to be able to work around that. Junhwe tilts Jinhwan’s head up toward him, scrutinizing his face. Now that he thinks about it, he wonders if he hadn’t been particularly disturbed by the revelation that Jinhwan is an ocean spirit because their souls _are_ connected. Maybe somewhere, deep down, he’d known Jinhwan’s true identity all along. 

“Junhwe?”  
“Yeah, I—yeah, I want you to stay. Of course I do.”

Jinhwan beams and kisses Junhwe’s cheek, wrapping his arms around Junhwe’s neck. He has to go back to the Deep in a day to get Hanbin and Jiwon and take care of some other things, but he should be back within a week. “It’s a shame we can’t meet back here since I sold the cottage,” Jinhwan says, a bit wistful. Junhwe looks sheepish, and with an embarrassed laugh he says that he’d actually bought the cottage. “Couldn’t bring myself to come back till now, though.” Jinhwan gapes at Junhwe in surprise, and then he laughs. He says they can meet back here after all. “Three days from now, at moonrise,” Jinhwan says. Junhwe nods. He’ll tell Donghyuk, and Donghyuk will remind him. Jinhwan hops to his feet, grabbing the bottle from the ground as he trots off. Junhwe stands and stretches, brushing sand off his butt, and trails after Jinhwan. It’s strange. He feels strange. They make it to the hill when Jinhwan stops and shades his eyes against the sun as he gazes out at the sea. “I listened to your album, you know,” he says absently to Junhwe. Junhwe’s breath catches. Jinhwan says he finds it beautiful, and sad, and he caresses Junhwe’s face in his tender way, his mouth twisting into his characteristic wry grin. 

Junhwe is lost, back on the beach of his dreams. He and Jinhwan are standing in the shallow water, the waves rolling up the shore to cover their feet and then rolling back, burying their feet in the sand. The sea breeze is whipping through their hair, and on Jinhwan’s face is his gentle smile. He reaches up and cups Junhwe’s cheek, and Junhwe closes his eyes. When he opens them again, Jinhwan is an ocean spirit, and around the both of them swirls seawater. It wraps them in a cool, shifting pod through which filters beams of colored light. Jinhwan the ocean spirit closes his eyes, and Junhwe closes his, and he can no longer tell if he’s awake or dreaming.

_An age I have wandered alone on the waves,_  
_My soul suppressed, denied what it craves._  
_But when our eyes met on that quiet shore,_  
_It was love beyond love, my heart freed once more._  
_Because what is true for you is true for me too:_  
_Whatever life I have, I want to live it loving you._

Junhwe opens his eyes and he’s on the hill again, back in reality, and Jinhwan the human is grinning up at him. Junhwe blinks. What had even happened? Jinhwan tilts his head and asks if Junhwe had liked his verse, and Junhwe’s eyes widen. He had heard Jinhwan’s soft voice singing to him, to the tune of his title song, “Aria Maris,” but he’d thought that had been a dream. Jinhwan really had heard his album, and he’d even thought up a response to Junhwe’s veiled (perhaps thinly) plea for Jinhwan to stay. Jinhwan takes Junhwe’s hands and squeezes them. “You’re really so talented.” Junhwe scoops Jinhwan up and kisses him, and Jinhwan laughs.

***

Later, when Donghyuk meets Jinhwan for the first time (he’d never bothered to go out to the cottage before), he calmly asks Junhwe if Junhwe had already punched Jinhwan or if he should do it. Junhwe keeps Donghyuk from punching Jinhwan, but the first few weeks that Jinhwan stays with Junhwe involves a lot of glaring on Donghyuk’s part. He warms up to Jinhwan eventually, however, and he forms a particularly special bond with Jiwon. He tells Junhwe one day that he swears he can hear Jiwon laughing at him, and all Junhwe says to him is that cats are assholes. He can’t exactly tell Donghyuk that Jinhwan’s cats can talk. Or laugh at everything Donghyuk does, as the case may be.

Jinhwan moves in with Junhwe once he returns from the Deep with his cats, and the four of them live in the city. Jinhwan gets back into the art world, and now that Junhwe knows his true identity, he can finally watch Jinhwan work his (literal) magic to make his most intricate pieces. Junhwe thinks it’s like watching a video of an artist drawing with a tablet—suddenly the image comes to life before Junhwe’s very eyes, at the whims of some unseen force. Jinhwan also starts painting, and soon their apartment is filled with beautiful art. So even when Jinhwan isn’t there because he has to go back to the Deep or to some exhibition that Junhwe can’t accompany him to, it’s almost as if Jinhwan is still there with him. And if he holds the little rose sculpture, closes his eyes, and lets himself drift away, Junhwe can just about feel Jinhwan’s presence, their soul connection, and throughout his body spreads the warmth of Jinhwan’s love for him.

***

Junhwe rolls off of Jinhwan and flops onto his back with a grunt. Jinhwan had been gone for two weeks for the Festival of the Stars, so it had taken all of Junhwe’s self-control to wait for Jinhwan to let Jiwon and Hanbin out into the courtyard before dragging Jinhwan into their bedroom. Junhwe doesn’t move while Jinhwan cleans them up, and it’s only when Jinhwan pinches his nose that he opens his eyes. Jinhwan says he’s going to take a shower, and without waiting for Junhwe to complain (Junhwe loves his cuddle time), he shuffles off to the bathroom. Junhwe watches him go with a frown. Jinhwan is usually more affectionate after sex. Junhwe joins Jinhwan in the shower, gathering Jinhwan up in his arms. “Are you okay?” Jinhwan says he’s fine, but he’s out of the shower in another few minutes. Junhwe leans against the shower wall with a sigh and listens to Jinhwan bang around their room as he gets dressed again.

Junhwe gets out of the shower when he hears the front door close. He gets dressed slowly, wrinkles his nose at the bed, and then goes out to the living room to bury himself in the blankets on the couch. A while later Jinhwan comes back, bringing with him hissing cats and a burst of cold winter air from outside. Hanbin is howling (“It started _snowing,_ Your Highness! I know matters of the flesh are important, but so is my wellbeing, Sire! Surely you are aware that I am an _indoor_ cat?”). Junhwe rolls his eyes at Hanbin’s dramatics. Both cats streak over to where Junhwe is to warm themselves up in his blankets, and Junhwe can hear Jinhwan’s laughter drift over from across the room. But Jinhwan himself doesn’t join Junhwe on the couch, so finally Junhwe shoves the cats off of him (Hanbin yowls indignantly), throws off the blankets, and stomps off in search of Jinhwan. 

Jinhwan is in the kitchen stirring milk into a cup of tea with one hand and rubbing his back with the other. “I’m fine,” Jinhwan says before Junhwe can say anything. “The Festival just always makes me feel—unsettled.” So it’s his family. Jinhwan doesn’t usually talk about ocean spirit politics and problems, so Junhwe doesn’t press for more. Jinhwan sips his tea, sighs contentedly, and then starts walking out of the kitchen, jerking his head for Junhwe to follow. “I brought something back for you.” They walk into the bedroom, and Junhwe perches on the edge of the bed while Jinhwan rummages through his pack. He pulls out a small box and brings it to Junhwe. Junhwe opens it carefully, and inside is a glass ball filled with what look like stars. Junhwe turns the ball around in his hands and squints at it to try to see everything. It looks like it could be the whole universe, and Jinhwan tells him it’s the universe as the ocean spirits understand it. Junhwe lets out a slow breath.

“My oldest sister, the future queen, made it for you.”  
Junhwe almost drops it. “What?”  
“I don’t have the skill to make something as intricate as this,” Jinhwan says.

Junhwe had always thought that Jinhwan is incredibly powerful. Indeed, with the way Hanbin and Jiwon fawn over him, how could Junhwe have thought otherwise? To think that there is someone out there who is stronger and more skilled… Junhwe wonders at the power of the ocean spirits. He gazes at the ball again, amazed at how Jinhwan’s sister had managed to capture the universe within a glass globe. He looks at Jinhwan, who smiles his crooked smile.

_The universe itself is caught in your eyes—  
Every shard of my soul, every star in the sky._

Junhwe asks why the future queen had made this for him, and with a shrug Jinhwan replies that the Festival of the Stars is their most important celebration; perhaps the Queen Rising had wanted Junhwe to enjoy a piece of it too. After a beat, Jinhwan stands abruptly. “I made you something too.” He hurries back to his pack and returns moments later with another small box. He swaps it for Junhwe’s galaxy glass, and Junhwe opens the box slowly. Inside is a tiny red rose. It seems almost more delicate than the glass beach rose, and on its petals are little droplets of dew. Junhwe stammers out that it’s beautiful, and Jinhwan beams. “I feel like roses are our thing. I mean, besides the sea.” Junhwe snorts. “I guess.” He puts the rose and the galaxy ball onto his special shelf with the beach rose and the ocean teardrop, then he goes back out into the living room to get the cats. Jinhwan changes the sheets while he does this, and once he’s finished, the four of them crawl into bed together. Junhwe snuggles up to Jinhwan, Jiwon settles himself in Jinhwan’s lap, and Hanbin situates himself in between Junhwe and Jinhwan, where it’s warmest.

Jinhwan puts something on TV, but Junhwe isn’t paying any attention. He can hear Jinhwan’s heartbeat and feel his chest vibrating as he laughs at whatever Jiwon is saying. Junhwe breathes in deep. Ocean spray and roses. He closes his eyes. He finally feels normal. Well, as normal as one can feel when one’s significant other is a water fairy and one’s cats can talk. Still, though, it had taken him a long time to get to this point—from a tumultuous year to a happy one to an empty one to this one of comfort and peace. His heart and soul are finally at peace. He sits up a little to kiss Jinhwan’s shoulder, then his cheek, and Jinhwan smiles, his eyes crinkling. Junhwe takes another deep breath, and still Jinhwan smells of salt spray and roses. For the first time in a long time, Junhwe is excited to live again.

_I have lived and I have loved, yes, this much is true,  
But never have I lived or loved the way I do with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This concludes the story. The next "chapter" is actually just a collection of the poems I wrote for this so you can read them as one. Feel free to read them!
> 
> Notes:  
> 1\. I'd been thinking about this because I got slightly obsessed with glassblowing last year, and I messaged my friend like "don't laugh but imagine Jinhwan as a glassblowing water fairy" and she didn't laugh, so this happened.
> 
> 2\. As far as Junhwe's album is concerned, I had something along the lines of Olafur Arnalds's album, _For Now I am Winter,_ in mind. Not necessarily in content or anything, but in overall mood. Subdued and emotive.
> 
> 3\. I also had in mind "A Song of the Sea" from the _Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva_ soundtrack as what the cats' vocalizing sounds like. It is only coincidentally related to the sea... I wrote the scene with regular music in mind first and remembered this song after the fact. His little dance for the Festival of the Stars was partially inspired by Yuna's Sending dance in Kilika... which is my favorite scene in the game and one of my favorite cutscenes of any video game I've ever played.
> 
> 4\. I also didn't start this with the intent to make it into a soulmates AU... sort of stumbled into that accidentally. (Accident of life?!)
> 
> 5\. I’d also just like to say that I had Junhwe writing emotive poetry (/songs) before he started sharing his poetry with us! So that’s not what inspired that aspect of his character in this. It does prove, however, that I am an oracle.
> 
> 6\. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading. You can read the poems (songs) in full in the next chapter if you'd like.


	6. Addendum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of Junhwe's songs, plus the little tidbits.

**Song of the Sea**

As the tide rolls in and rolls out with the push and the pull of the moon,  
I realize what I have been missing, what I have been dreaming, what I have been…  
It is you, it has always been you, you who have stood on the edge of the earth,  
the apex of the apex of the sea, and leapt down to the deepest darkest depths of my heart.  
In time I came to love you--love you as the sun loves the sky, as the waves love the shore,  
so for a moment we were happy, but how long does love last when by nature it is  
ephemeral? The only constant in my life has been the salt of the sea and my tears,  
and you wipe them away, but nothing can be done because you must go and I must stay,  
so my soul seeps into your skin for you to carry off as you disappear beyond the horizon line. 

\--

**Aria Maris**

As I stand on a cliff overlooking the sea,  
I hope that someday you’ll come back for me.  
That somehow, just maybe, my soul will still reach  
Where you stand filling bottles on that same stretch of beach.  
But a dream in a dream is a dream in a lie,  
And my soul is devoured where the sea meets the sky.

I had thought I was hidden, my heart in the dunes,  
As I watched from afar as you hummed little tunes.  
But you, as you are, are so clever and bright  
That you could still see me, my heart in plain sight.  
So my heart and my soul drift down to the bay  
To meet you and your smile, clear as the day.

Here in the soft light of the dawn, we stand,  
And as the waves draw back, you take my hand.  
Onward you take me, heart, mind, soul,  
Pulling me closer till again I am whole.  
We arrive at the seats you’ve reserved by sea,  
And with a pot brewed from stars you offer me tea.

I look into the depths of your ageless eyes,  
And in your crooked smile it is love that I find.  
Though we are from and must go worlds apart,  
I offer you this piece carved from my heart.  
Its green and blue lights hold the soul of the sea;  
Perhaps their beauty will entice you to stay here with me.

Do you dream of me as I dream of you?  
Does your heart call out in yearning too?  
Or does your mind change with each coming day  
As your soul sails to the sky on the crest of a wave?  
Am I destined to stand here at the edge of the shore,  
My body aching in longing, alone evermore?

A pink rose of glass you offer in parting  
Though it still feels as though we are only just starting.  
Separated from you I cannot bear to be  
Because with you my heart is finally free.  
Just look into my eyes to know that it's true  
Because if ever I'm to love, I want to live life loving you.

(Jinhwan's answer)

An age I have wandered alone on the waves,  
My soul suppressed, denied what it craves.  
But when our eyes met on that quiet shore,  
It was love beyond love, my heart freed once more.  
Because what is true for you is true for me too:  
Whatever life I have, I want to live it loving you.

\--

**Little tidbits...**

I love you as you love each petal of the rose of glass  
That you pieced together from the shards of my heart.

The universe itself is caught in your eyes—  
Every shard of my soul, every star in the sky.

I have lived and I have loved, yes, this much is true,  
But never have I lived or loved the way I do with you.

\--

**Snippet of Jinhwan's song**

The moon is bright, as is my soul, and neither wave nor I can resist its call…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a hidden message in "Song of the Sea"...! Let me know if you can find it.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
